


All My Secrets Laid Out

by dkaysees



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Office, Fear of Flying, M/M, based on a movie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:22:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24209656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dkaysees/pseuds/dkaysees
Summary: Stiles has a fear of planes.Now, it's not the flying that makes him never want to step foot on an airplane, it's the possibility of diving 30,000 feet to your death that scares him.After an unsuccessful work trip, he braces himself for the flight back home. Only, the plane hits turbulence like hell and thinking they're all going to crash soon, he spills all of his secrets to the stranger sitting next to him. Seriously,allof them.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 12
Kudos: 93





	1. Up in the Air

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi there! so this is my first fic ever and is based on the movie _Can You Keep A Secret?_ that stars Mr. Hoechlin himself. Please bear with me and any mistakes I may have made. I do not own _Teen Wolf_ or _Can You Keep A Secret?_ , just thought they'd go well together!

Stiles is sitting in one of the big pleather armchairs situated in the bar and lounge across from his gate. He _really_ needed a drink after the events of the day and the thought of having to board a plane soon was not helping his mood. 

He slouches further into the chair and silently groans, thumping his head back onto the backrest as his mind plays back the events of his sales meeting earlier. He shifts uncomfortably to unstick the slightly damp material of his shirt that's been clinging to his side, allowing cool air to take its place. There's a spot on his forehead he must’ve missed when rinsing his face that’s still slightly sticky from the energy drink that exploded all over him. He squeezes his eyes at the memory and lets out a quiet hum of pain.

His phone rings and he jolts at the noise before shimmying it out of his back pocket. He blinks blearily at the brightness of the screen before his vision focuses to the image of Scott’s face lighting up the screen. He rubs away the clamminess of his palm against his thigh before answering. 

Bringing the phone up to his ear, he mumbles a pitiful greeting, “Hello?” He stares at the almost empty glass in his hand and watches as a bead of condensation trickles down its side. He swipes at it before it can drip onto him and squints as another takes its place. 

“ _Hey buddy, how’d your meeting go?”_

“Oh you know me, walking human disaster,” he says in a faux upbeat attitude to his best friend. He lets out a breath of disappointment before continuing, “Scotty, it was such a _mess_! It was honestly such an out of body experience. It's like I saw myself floundering but couldn't do anything to help. I just, I don't know. The only thing I know is that I really can’t afford to lose this job and I’m pretty sure people have been fired for less than what I’ve done.” 

Scott made a noise of sympathy. _“I’m sure it couldn’t have been that bad, dude. You’re good at your job, you need to give yourself more credit. And you know I wouldn't say that if I didn't think it was true.”_

Stiles could admit at least that part was true. It didn't stop him from scoffing lightly, “Scott, I love you but you seriously overestimate my sales pitching abilities. I was in the middle of giving this big inspirational speech on why they should give us the account with the drink in my hand, you know to really drive the point home.” 

He sighs and places the empty glass on the side table to rub at his forehead in shame at having to explain what happened next. The tip of his middle finger drags on the sticky spot and his face scrunches in disgust as he hurriedly pulls his hand away to inspect the digit. He wipes his finger on a dry spot at the bottom of his shirt to get rid of the phantom sticky feeling. 

“I thought they were moved by my speech and about ready to close the deal but when I put the can down on the table it just _exploded_! All over me and the clients, dude. I think I begged them not to tell Lydia but, who knows if they’re willing to keep a secret for a guy who drenched them in Peach Mango juice.” 

He can practically picture the wince Scott does when he says, _“Oh Stiles, I’m sorry man. Hey! At least you’ll be home soon enough. Tell you what, I’ll have a pizza waiting for you.”_

“Ugh, don’t remind me. You know how much I hate flying, dude. My fear of Lydia is the only thing that managed to get me on the flight here in the first place. You know what? Now that I may not have a job to go back to, I think settling down in Chicago is definitely the way to go.”

It might seem a little dramatic but it made perfect sense to Stiles right now. He'd been excited when Lydia said she was giving him an opportunity to pitch by himself. His giddiness at getting the chance to prove his bad-ass marketing skills had been quickly diminished when Lydia beamed at his eagerness and informed him his flight was leaving the next day. When he tied to back out of it claiming he just remembered he actually had to petsit his neighbor's iguana, Lydia fixed him with a narrow gaze and said he was getting on that plane or else. When it came to Lydia, he definitely did not want to figure out what 'or else' meant.

Scott attempts to be supportive by providing him with what he guesses is supposed to be a reassuring fact. _“C’mon dude, planes are perfectly safe. Thousands of people fly every day, it’s even safer than driving a car.”_

“Yeah. Right,” he mumbles. “I’ll make sure to remember that on the car ride back home then. Thanks Scotty, I’ll see you soon. Maybe.”

He hears Scott’s laugh as he disconnects the call and sits up, picking up his glass in a signal to the bartender that he’s asking for another. His eyes connect with a woman in a flight attendant’s uniform and he offers her a weak smile before slumping back into his seat. 

~~~~

Stiles shuffles behind the couple in front of him, clutching his boarding pass between his fingers. When he moves up to show the flight attendant his boarding pass, he recognizes her as the very one he saw in the lounge. 

She smiles at him in recognition and offers a warm greeting, “Hi, how are you doing?”

He offers her a shrug and a small smile in return, "M'okay, thank you." He hands her the pass and mumbles out his seat in the business class. She looks at him with eyes full of understanding. 

“Hasn’t been your day has it?” 

Oh god, he hopes she didn’t overhear the humiliating story he was telling Scott. 

He shakes his head softly and ducks his head in slight shame, clearing his throat to reply.

“Not really, no.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she pauses for a moment before saying, “How about an upgrade to first class?”

Stiles' head whips up in surprise and he stares at her with his mouth forming a small ‘o’. 

“Really?” he whispers in astonishment. Her act of kindness might bring this grown man to tears. No, crying on the plane at a stranger's generosity is something not even Stiles' pride will be able to handle. 

She nods at him and motions to the first few rows. “Seat 2A.”

She hands back his boarding pass and he feels a genuine smile tug at his lips for the first time that day and breathes out his gratitude before ducking out of the other passenger's way.

He moves down the aisle and flings himself into the luxurious looking seat. He laughs to himself in disbelief and stretches out his legs in front of him. 

There’s _so much_ leg room. He’s shaken from his admiration when a flight attendant comes by with a tray offering him a flute of champagne. 

He already had the 2 drinks earlier and is feeling a pleasant buzz, but hey it’s free and he’s never been one to refuse free things. 

He takes it and offers a ‘thank you’ behind the lip of the glass as he takes a drink. 

  
After a big gulp that makes his head rush a bit, he figures he should pace himself to make the drink last longer.

He’s too busy staring down at the bubbles making their way to the surface to notice the guy before he lets out a friendly, “Alright, cheers!”

Stiles looks up in confusion and says "Huh?" Before turning back quickly to staring at the back of the seat in front of him. He catches his own wide eyed look of embarrassment in the black screen of the monitor mounted in front of him. Was that really the only thing he could say in the presence of someone who looked like _that_?

The guy gives him an odd look as he arranges his belongings in his hands before sitting down in the seat next to Stiles. 

He’s holding a phone in his hand and motions towards his ear where Stiles can see the white end of a wireless headphone peeking out of his right ear. 

The guy continues the conversation with the person on the other end, “What? No, sorry I’m here. Just a misunderstanding; someone thought I was talking to them. Go ahead.”

Stiles turns towards the window in mortification and dies a little inside. He wonders what deity he pissed off to keep dragging this day on. 

Whatever, Stiles had the window seat so he’ll just stare out at the tarmac and silently suffer in his own awkwardness until they take off and the flight attendants allow him to pull the window shade down. There’s no way he’s going to spend the entire trip seeing how far they are from the ground. Nope.

~~~~

They’re up in the air now which Stiles thinks is only half the battle. His nerves kicked up almost as soon they took off and the plane eventually leveled out.

He ended up finishing the champagne almost as soon his throat opened up again to allow him enough air to breathe in a large gasp. A flight attendant was just making his way down the aisle when Stiles called out to get his attention. 

“Excuse me, can I get—” he begins when the flight attendant turns to look at him then proceeds to completely ignore him for his seatmate. 

“Hello sir, what can I get for you?” He asks him with an almost too wide smile. The guy next to him looks up from the papers he was studying, confusion etched across his face at being addressed before casting a glance over to Stiles who was _the one who called him over in the first place_. Ugh.

Upon seeing the disgruntled expression on Stiles’ face at being ignored, amusement colors his face before he turns back to the flight attendant with a charming smile. 

Before he manages to get a word out, the plane rocks harshly and gasps of alarm ring out from the other passengers on the plane.

The flight attendant stumbles but makes an attempt to calm the panicked passengers and he stumbles to his own seat. In all of the chaos, Stiles can barely hear the announcement the captain makes informing them that they’re experiencing some turbulence and advises everyone to remain seated and buckled in until the seatbelt sign turns off. 

Stiles clutches at the arms of his seat and clamps his eyes shut letting out harsh breaths. If he doesn’t get his breathing under control he’ll work himself into a panic attack and he definitely doesn’t want that. 

He doesn’t even realize he’s voicing out his panicked thoughts of ‘ _shitshitshitshit we’re all gonna die’_ until the guy next to him places a warm hand on his forearm. 

“Hey, it’s just a bit of turbulence,” he offers in a soothing tone. ‘ _Way too fucking calm for the shit we’re dealing with’_ Stiles thinks bitterly.

Stiles turns to face him fully in a panic. “What the hell else do you think they would say?! They’re obviously not going to say ‘You’re all gonna die’ because that would make everyone freak out,” he exclaims. “But this is it, this is the end!” 

The plane jerks violently again and this time panic is palpable as other passengers scream out in fear. 

Stiles begins babbling not even aware until he’s spewing out his deepest, darkest secrets and regrets. 

He could blame it on the alcohol in his system making his brain to mouth filter basically nonexistent but the truth is, they’re about to die and he feels the need to come clean to someone before he leaves this world.

“I haven’t done anything! I haven’t climbed a mountain, I never got to visit the world, I never got to sleep with my celebrity crush! I don’t even think I have a prostate! Or one that works at least?!” He gasps out in a sob. He manages to register the guy’s scandalized ‘excuse me?’ before he comes back to himself. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he offers sheepishly, blinking rapidly to clear the tears blurring his vision. The guy recovers quickly and tells him, “It’s okay, keep talking it seems like it’s helping you.” 

The plane jolts again, this time bags and other belongings flying out from the overhead bins at the force. 

“My career is a joke! I just fucked up my first big meeting and I’m probably going to lose my job. Then there’s this _awful_ girl at work named Kate who got a promotion over me,” he leans closer to the guy to admit his petty crimes.

“So I’ve been watering her stupid spider plant with orange juice. And she’s totally clueless!” He jerks back to his side before continuing, “God, I wish I knew what it’s like to have _boobs_ or a vagina.”

Now that he’s on a roll he can’t seem to stop, he is literally baring his soul out to this dude. 

“Every time I hear Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol I instantly start crying. Even now, just thinking about it I feel like crying.” 

“I’ve been single for so long, I don’t know if I'm even capable of being in a relationship at this point.” 

  
Oh God, is he Charlotte from _Pride and Prejudice?_ No money? Check. No prospects? Double check. He's only 26 but that's damn close to her 27. He is such a Charlotte. He shakes the thought away before reaching out to clutch out at the arm rests between their seats and leans in to admit the most embarrassing thing he’s done in the past few months.

“There’s this guy at work that I have a friends with benefits thing going on with, but I think he wants to _date_ me! Don't get me wrong, he's really nice...but he’s awful at giving head! Like always-uses-too-much-teeth-to-the-point-where-I-genuinely-fear-for-the-safety-of-my-junk awful.”

The guy winces at that and nods along to the woes of Stiles’ pathetic sex life.

“I don’t think I’ve ever really been in love and honestly? I don’t think anyone has ever really loved me like they say they do.” 

“I just want this big, amazing romance, you know? Like actually rock your world romance! If I could just—” He's lightly nudged by the guy and looks at him in bewilderment wondering why he cut him off in the middle of his crisis.

“Excuse me, um, sorry it’s just that we landed?” He states it as a question seeming almost regretful that he’s putting an end to Stiles’ rambling. 

Now that Stiles gets his bearings together he realizes that yeah, they’re not moving anymore and people are leaving. Actually, the plane is almost _empty._   
  


Why hadn’t the guy interrupted him sooner? He looks at the guy with wide eyes and loudly says, “What?!”

“Turbulence stopped like half an hour ago. But it seemed like you needed to get a few things off your chest.” The guy says, eyes twinkling with mirth.

Stiles covers his face with both of his hands wishing the ground would open up and swallow him so he doesn’t have to face the fact that he told this guy literally everything he’s been holding in. 

He sits up quickly as the strangers’ words register in his brain. The plane is on sweet, sweet ground again and Stiles can escape this metal death trap. He shoots up and is out of his seat before he knows it. The guy startles at his sudden movements and leans back into his seat as Stiles maneuvers himself around his legs to reach into the overhead bin and grab his bag. He readjusts the bag in his hand and his eyes quickly sweep over the guy's form as he rushes out a feeble apology, “I’ve gotta go, um, thanks dude. Sorry about...that.”

_At least I’ll never see him again_ , Stiles thinks to himself as he quickly makes his way off the plane. He finds relief in this one statement, but still cringes at the fact that some random person knows everything there is to know about him. 


	2. Ready Jet No!

Stiles steps out onto the terminal curb and pulls out his phone with the intention to order an Uber. 

He’s debating whether he should do a shared ride or bite the bullet and pick the pricier option to get home faster when he hears his name being called.

He looks up and spots the familiar yellow car that fills him with conflicting emotions. After everything that's happened in the past 24 hours, this detail had almost slipped his mind. 

Or, he might have repressed this detail on purpose. Potato, potatoh. 

The stupidly small Smart Car pulls up in front of him and the driver’s head pops out from it’s sunroof.

“Stiles!” They yell out in concern. 

Stiles thinks the seventy bucks it would have cost him to get his own ride home would have been well worth it if that meant not having to deal with Greenberg right now.

He survived one disaster and walked right into another. He sighs and responds in a too high pitch, “Heeey, Greenberg.”

He looks around and notices there aren’t that many cars. Maybe one of them would be willing to give him a ride if he begged enough or tried bribing them with some cash.

His ears pick up the sound of a car door slamming and he turns back just in time to watch as Greenberg tries to slide across the ridiculously small hood of the car to get to Stiles. 

He turns his head to the side and scrunches his face in secondhand embarrassment at having witnessed the attempt to be suave. An unbidden snort makes it out before he can think twice and he clamps his hand over his face in an attempt to smother it. 

He feels a pair of arms come around him in a tight hug trapping his own arms to his sides. The arms pull back just as quickly as they came before Greenberg nudges him lightly, “Stiles, how many times have I told you to call me Greg?" He turns his smiling face to ask, "Anyways, how was your flight?”

“Old habits die hard, I guess," he admits around a shrug. "There was a lot of turbulence. I think I just want to go home right now.”

Greenb— _Greg_ (that doesn’t sound right at all in his mind) nods quickly in understanding but continues to stand in front of him. Stiles is about to step around him to get to the car when hands come up to hover over Stiles’ elbows.

He stops, taken by surprise at the movement and watches as Greenberg (he is _sticking_ with it okay? Well, in his mind at least) stares at him with a determined look on his face. 

Oh no. Oh nononono. He really needs to say something before Greenberg says something they’ll both regret.

“Okay,” Stiles draws out. “Um, I think we should get going before—” he tries again before Greenberg cuts in with shaky voice.

“Stiles, we should really talk. About us, that is.”

Stiles’ eyes widen slightly in alarm and he doesn’t get the chance to respond before Greenberg continues without a reply.

“It’s just that, well, I think we should be taking our relationship to the next level, you know? And I think it’s something you really want too, if the way you stare at me sometimes is any indication,” he waggles his eyebrows at the second part of his statement.

Stiles continues to look at him with unblinking eyes and thinks of all the times he’s found himself staring at Greenberg wondering if he's actually attracted to him or has somehow convinced himself that he is.

This must be the straw that broke the camel’s back, or more like the last blow to his already bruised self esteem, because when he opens his mouth to say ‘ _I don't know if there really is an _us_ ’ _ a wounded noise escapes his lips. There are also hot tears making his vision blurry and sliding down his cheeks. Huh. When did that happen?

He can’t see anything but hears the sound of alarm the blurry figure in front of him makes. He closes his eyes in an effort to soothe the burn of the tears and feels Greenberg herding him into the passenger seat and taking his carry on from his hands to throw in the back of the sad excuse of a trunk. 

As Greenberg comes back and puts the car into drive he hastily tries to soothe the situation by saying, "It's okay, it's okay! We can talk about it later."

He lets his head thump against the cool glass of the window and closes his eyes, feigning sleep so they _don't_ have to talk about it later.

~~~~

The next morning finds him walking to work with his coworker Isaac who’s complaining about the new girl he’s dating. 

Stiles doesn’t understand why someone hasn't tried to make an honest man out of his work bestie yet. To him, Isaac seems to be the whole package. He’s all curly hair, bone structure that plastic surgeons envy, and some seriously dreamy eyes. He just has the worst luck with dating. 

“I thought a text asking me to come over and fix her plumbing was some sort of euphemism not an actual request!” Isaac pushes back a curl that managed to spring free with an agitated hand. 

He looks over to see Stiles suppressing his laugh behind his thermos. His reaction only seems to wind Isaac up even more as he goes on, “I should have known she was just using me when she asked me on the first date if I had any ‘plumbing or roofing experience’. Like, seriously who asks that?”

Stiles decides to show him some mercy and wraps an arm around Isaac’s broad shoulders. “Hey, it’s okay man. Someone will appreciate you for the fine piece of ass that you are.”

He laughs and jumps away before Isaac can pinch his nipple for his comment. He’s done it before and Stiles’ nipple had actually bruised. Talk about purple nurple. 

Isaac rolls his eyes before pouting, “I’m not gonna cry at work today.”

Stiles finds that hard to believe. They've had to work out a system when Isaac needs to let some emotions out since it’s an occurring thing.

He decides not to voice his doubts and instead offers, “I’ll be there for you if you need to, bud. Let’s try to do it in private this time, yeah?” 

Isaac jabs him with his _pointy ass_ elbow and snorts at Stiles’ yelp of pain.

~~~~

The sight that meets them when they step out of the elevator is a chaotic scene he's never encountered in his time here. There are dozens of people milling around, some flitting from one end of the room to the other so quickly they almost blur. Some are in aprons and carrying cleaning supplies while others are staging some fancy looking furniture that definitely wasn’t here when Stiles left for the weekend. 

They make their way over to Matt Daehler, a snooty marketing rep, who’s standing by the large window that faces the street with his arms crossed.

“Hey Matt, what’s going on?” Stiles asks as they get close enough for him to hear over the commotion in the office. Matt barely spares them a glance from the corner of his eye before focusing back at the street below.

He releases a put out sigh as if their very presence annoys him, “Derek Hale is visiting.”

Stiles rolls his eyes at his short reply. “Who?”

Isaac looks at him as if he's grown another head. “Are you serious?”

Matt eyes him again with way too much judgement then drawls, “Why he only co-founded the company that you work for.”

Isaac’s eyes flit between Matt and the street below before asking, “I thought he turned into a hermit after Vernon Boyd died?”

“Well, looks like he’s coming out of hiding.” He turns back to the window and that seems to be the end of the conversation. 

“Stilinski!” 

Stiles jumps as he hears Lydia’s pissed off voice. He turns to Isaac and starts his farewell speech, “It was a good run, bud. Keep in touch, okay?” He turns to Matt and is trying to wrack his brain to come up with something nice to say to this d-bag before turning on his heel because it seems like too much effort. 

He rushes over to his desk and finds Lydia impatiently waiting with her arms crossed and furious green eyes tracking his movements.

He offers a small sounding ' _h_ _i’_ then awkwardly stands at the edge of the desk unsure if he should put his belongings down on a desk that might not even be his anymore.

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other and waits for Lydia to tear him a new one. He doesn’t have to wait long.

“Did you forget to take your meds or something?” she demands, one of her arms uncrossing to motion out questioningly. 

His lips pull down in a frown and he shakes his head.

“No? Then how do you explain the phone call I just got from Chicago?” She inhales deeply through her nose as if she’s calming herself. “I’m just trying to understand what would have possessed you to douse them in our energy drink?”

She’s staring at him with a raised eyebrow and realizes he should probably begin to explain what the fuck happened.

“I mean if anything _I_ got hit with most of the drink, so really they seemed to have exaggerated that part just a little.”

Lydia’s eyes close like she’s in genuine pain at the confirmation that Stiles’ presentation was indeed a shitshow. 

He rushes to justify that this really _wasn’t his fault._ How was he supposed to know the can was going to explode? If anything, they need to repackage the product if it couldn't handle a little bit of shaking.

“Well I was you know, I was waving the can around to show how passionate I was about the product,” he mimics the motions he used in the meeting with his right hand. “And I was just like—”

Lydia’s eyes reopen and move to focus on his arm. She raises a finger to point at his gesticulating appendage, “Were you doing...this in the meeting?”

He stares at his arm as if it’s a foreign object, watching as it makes a jerking motion and realizes in horror that it looks like he’s jerking off a giant dick. Oh. He can see where Lydia’s disturbed expression is coming from.

He immediately drops his arm and stares at her helplessly. She looks so done with his shit and turns to walk away before impatiently stating, “Clean up your desk.”

Stiles squeaks out, “What?! Are you firing me? Wait, I—”

She turns back to him with an unimpressed look. “Listen, Stilinski. I said clean _up_ not clean _out._ ”

“Derek Hale is due to make an appearance in a few minutes and if you spray Wolf’s Bane on him, _then_ you’re gone. Understood?”

He nods his head quickly and watches as she makes her way to the middle of the space before addressing the room as a whole.

“Everyone, listen up! This is an informal visit, okay? Mr. Hale will come in and talk to a few of you. So act natural...maybe just a bit better than your usual self,” Stiles doesn’t miss the pointed look she throws his way and rubs at the back of his neck a little while deliberately avoiding eye contact.

She nods, confident that her message was received before strutting back to her office.

Stiles lets out a breath and begins setting his stuff down when an annoying buzz reaches his ears. He registers it as Kate Argent’s insufferable voice and takes a deep breath.

“Not really a great meeting for you, was it Stiles?” she starts in a voice that's filled with false sympathy. That bitch. 

He hears Matt snort, “Brutal”. He’s leaning over the divide to butt into the conversation that has absolutely _nothing_ to do with him and Stiles feels annoyance prickle in his chest. 

He decides not to pay them any mind and boots up his computer. He hears the clack of Lydia’s heels as she makes her way back towards them before quickly announcing, “He’s on the floor. Everyone, look busy.”

Stiles stares back at his computer watching the company logo load onto the screen when he hears Lydia’s cheerful, “Derek!”

He watches as Lydia’s arms spread open in invitation and she brings the guy into a polite hug. Stiles sees the guy smile and murmur his own greeting into her ear and fleetingly thinks _‘he’s handsome’_ before fully registering the face.

He’s seen this guy before. He spent two _hours_ talking to his stupidly gorgeous face. He shrinks into his chair as his mouth drops open in shock. 

He wishes the stupid office layout that’s meant to ‘promote an open environment where communication and collaboration amongst each other is encouraged’ had dividers that were tall enough to cover him instead of ending at his shoulders.

He doesn’t hear what else Lydia has to say past the sound of his pounding heartbeat in his ears as he silently _freaks the fuck out_. He thinks she’s in the middle of introducing Derek Hale to the whole office, who Stiles (kind of, sort of, but not really) already knows.

He looks up again, just in case he was having some sort of hallucination, to make sure the guy is actually real. Then watches as Derek does a double take in his direction as he’s surveying the faces in the office. 

Stiles ducks his head back down and tries to hide by bringing his left hand up and leaning on it until his entire upper body is facing the opposite way of where Derek stands.

Lydia finishes and turns to Derek who bows his head in acknowledgement. “Thank you Lydia, hello everyone.” 

Stiles’ gets the feeling he’s being stared at and fidgets under the heavy weight of the gaze.

He hears footsteps coming his way and the person asks, “Who’s this?”

Stiles, still leaning heavily in the palm of his hand refuses to look up until Lydia nudges him harshly. His face slips from his palm and he straightens himself up in the chair, staring resolutely at his computer monitor.

He hears Lydia introducing him, “This is Stiles Stilinski. He’s one of our junior marketing assistants.” 

He sees a hand in his peripheral vision and hears Derek’s delighted, “Hi Stiles, it’s very nice to meet you.”

Stiles refuses to make eye contact but slightly bobs his head in Derek’s direction before taking the offered hand to shake it briefly.

“Hello Mr. Hale, it’s nice to meet you,” he drops his voice by an octave hoping it will somehow fool Derek into thinking he’s a different person than the stranger who shared too much on the plane.

He can _feel_ Lydia’s glare burning into the side of his skull like lasers and hears her thinly veiled frustration at his behavior, “Show the man who you are.”

When Stiles looks up, he sees Derek’s eyebrows raised in amusement and raises his other hand to his mouth to cover the way his jaw is still slightly dropped open.

He tunes out whatever Lydia is saying to Derek. He brings his thermos up to his lips and takes a long gulp. Derek’s eyes flick to him as the movement draws his attention.

“I could use a coffee,” he motions to Stiles’ thermos. He must think Stiles has coffee in here instead of the tangy orange juice that’s making its way down his throat.

He continues, brows furrowing in a questioning look, “How’s the coffee here, anyway?” 

The question is ringing alarms at the back of Stiles’ mind. He vaguely remembers…

_The coffee they serve us is_ **_absolute_ ** _poison. It’s terrible! I don’t know how anyone can drink that garbage._

He’s brought out of his recollection by Lydia pointedly clearing her throat. Stiles gives them a tight lipped smile and says unconvincingly, “It–it’s great.”

Derek nods slowly, not buying it at all. Lydia waves Kate over and introduces her to Derek as one of the marketing executives. She basically runs around the edge of her desk, almost tripping in her haste to shake Derek’s hand.

“Bonjour, Monsieur Hale,” she says in a French accent. Stiles rolls his eyes at her behavior. She’s from Connecticut, he doesn’t know why she bothers with the whole French façade.

Derek's head tilts in surprise, “Oh, you’re French?” 

Kate nods, “Yes two percent, sir. My last name Argent actually translates to ‘silver’.”

Derek’s head bobs as though he’s actually impressed by this. He stares at the corner of the desk she came from where a plant sits.

“Oh nice. Well, um, I like your spider plant,” Derek turns his head to look at Stiles, lips twitching with the effort to suppress his humor and continues with, “It looks...very healthy.” 

Stiles looks away guiltily, knowing the asshole remembers what he said about Kate and what he's been doing to her stupid plant.

Lydia seems to decide that’s enough socializing with the staff and motions Derek down the hallway towards the conference room.

He leaves them all with a polite, “It was nice to meet you all. I look forward to getting to know some of you a little bit better.”

He seems to pointedly announce that last part in the direction of Stile's desk. 

Stiles watches their retreating forms and bangs his head down onto his keyboard. Seriously, what did he do to piss off the Universe?


	3. Taking Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi everyone! sorry I haven't had a chance to update but I hope this longer chapter makes up for it. i've decided to just completely deviate off the original movie plot which is ok, but I will still incorporate some elements of it. any mistakes made are mine, sorry bout that. anywhoo I hope you enjoy! thanks for being patient :)

He’s passed by the open office door a few times already. He’s been trying to gather the courage to venture inside and face the person, but with little success.

A few people have already passed by and sent curious glances from the corners of their eyes. He meets their judgmental looks with what he hopes is his least suspicious looking smile and continues to internally argue with himself. He doesn’t want to look like a creep loitering outside of their boss’ office, but here he is. 

He passes by quickly one more time before rolling his eyes at his own behavior and resolutely makes his way towards the door. He slowly risks a peek from the safety behind the door frame, and jerks back against the wall when he finds eyes already on him.

He hears a voice call out, “Hi there.”

Figuring it’s too late to back out now that he’s been caught, Stiles straightens his jacket and takes unsure steps into the office. 

In an effort to prolong having to meet the person's gaze, he looks around the room and takes note of the modern furniture placed around the space. There’s a plant in the corner that is standing tall due to the sunshine pouring in from the large floor to ceiling windows that span against the entire wall. He wonders what kind it is, it could be a fern for all he knows. Those are common office plants, right?

He’s never been much of a plant person since anything he tries to grow ends up dying. His dad joked about him having a black thumb when he tried to grow a small tomato plant in their backyard the summer before his senior year. 

There’s a white futon situated against the wall facing the desk and another plant right next to it. This one is a fake plant though, whoever furnished the room probably thought two plants required too much maintenance.

His eyes are staring down at the pattern on the rug that’s situated in the space between the futon and the two plush looking chairs that sit across the desk. 

He realizes he never answered the greeting and belatedly says, “Hi.”

He drags his focus away from the furniture to meet the kaleidoscopic eyes. He immediately feels a flush heating up his face as he realizes they’ve been tracking him as he observed the room.

His mouth quirks up in an embarrassed smile and he decides to break the silence in the room. “So, we meet again.”

Derek shakes his head, lips stretched out in an amused smile. He gestures for Stiles to take a seat in one of the chairs. 

Stiles plops into the chair closest to the door, just in case he needs to make a run for whatever reason, and arranges himself into his most proper sitting position. 

Derek plays along with his show of professionalism and pulls himself erect, pinning Stiles with what he thinks is supposed to be a very stern look. 

They stare each other down for a few seconds and break out into laughter at their attempts to keep things professional. It’s kind of hard to keep things serious between them when Derek knows all the most intimate things about him. 

“I’m sorry it’s just—I really can’t believe you’re…” Stiles trails off and gestures to Derek as a whole. He drops his hand and huffs out, “You know what I mean?”

Derek nods at him before speaking up, “I understand. I know this is a...unique situation we find ourselves in but I hope you don’t feel too uncomfortable. I’m sorry if this is distressing for you, especially considering who I am.”

Stiles can’t believe what he’s hearing. If anything _he_ should be apologizing. After all, the guy is technically his boss and knows way too much about his staff member than someone in his position should.

“What? No, if anything _I_ should be apologizing! I’m sorry, again, I don’t know if you remember me telling you before I kind of ran out?” Stiles lifts his hand to run it through his hair but catches himself before he can go through with the motion. He actually put effort into styling his hair this morning, thankyouverymuch.

He drops his arm and begins picking at the end of his jacket before continuing hesitantly, “Trust me, if I had known who you were I would _not_ have—”

He’s interrupted by Derek waving his hand towards him dismissing his attempt to apologize. “No, please don’t worry about it. We can keep it between us.” 

Stiles sags back into the chair and sighs in relief, “Really? Oh my gosh, thank you. Honestly, I’m embarrassed enough as it is.” He levels his gaze at Derek, “Again, I’m really sorry.”

Derek shakes his head, “Of course, there’s no need to apologize.” He looks down at his desk with a complicated expression crossing his face. 

“Do you think you could do me a favor, though?” He asks almost hesitantly, as if unsure of what Stiles’ response will be.

Stiles nods his head vehemently. “Yeah, anything.”

Derek bobs his head slowly seeming to choose his words carefully.

“Would you mind not telling anyone I was in Chicago?” Derek looks up at him with an earnest expression, his eyebrows coming together in an intense line. 

It seems bizarre and Stiles is a little shocked at the seemingly minor request. His brows draw together in confusion but before he can reply Derek continues, “It’s just...I’d rather avoid having to answer any questions about my trip.” 

“Um, yeah, dude it’s no problem at all. Sorry I mean, sir? I’m still not sure where we stand after, you know, everything,” Stiles trails off awkwardly. 

“Plus it’s a fair trade. You keep my secrets and I’ll keep yours type of deal,” Stiles goes on just to ensure Derek is serious about keeping things between them.

Derek nods at that, “I guess you’re right it is a fair trade. Thank you, Stiles.”

He leans back in his chair now that they’ve got that settled, “Also, you can call me whatever you like.”

Stiles smirks at that because it sounds like a bad pickup line. Derek seems to realize how unintentionally flirty it comes across and the tips of his ears turn a little pink.

Looking a little panicked, he stutters out, “I—I mean when we’re in private of course. Um, but please refer to me as Mr. Hale while we’re at work. I wouldn’t want to put you in a situation that makes people wonder why we seem...familiar.”

Stiles isn’t cruel, so he saves Derek from his embarrassment by letting out a laugh to let him know he’s just teasing him. 

“Relax Derek, I know you didn’t mean it like that,” Stiles settles back into his own chair now that he doesn’t feel the previous fight-or-flight response that was activated when he first entered the office.

Derek huffs out a laugh and slightly rolls his eyes in agreement. When he looks at Stiles again, there’s a mischievous glint, “Right, because of what’s his name? Greenberg, was it?”

Stiles groans and tips his head back onto the chair addressing the ceiling, “Ugh, can we not? I thought we weren’t going to talk about what happened! Technically we’re nothing. Especially now that you’re here and know about, well _that._ I just haven’t gotten around to letting him know that, yet.”

Stiles realizes he probably should call this thing off with Greenberg especially since the man in question told him they should basically define the relationship. Truthfully, he should’ve done it a long time ago but he kept putting it off.

Derek hums as he takes in what he said. Stiles rights his head to face him and watches Derek size him up, “So you’re saying you’re unattached?”

Stiles’ raises a brow questioningly. “As in single? Um, yes? He’s not really what I’m looking for anyway.”

“Okay. Hm, well,” Derek clears his throat. “How would you feel about having dinner with me tomorrow night?" His arm goes up to rub at his neck, and Stiles is momentarily distracted by the sight of his bicep flexing underneath the sleeve of his shirt. "Feel free to say no and know that declining would in no way jeopardize your position here. I realize I’m being forward, but I really enjoy your company.” He says quickly and stares at Stiles with a restrained sort of hopefulness.

Stiles gapes at Derek, his mind going a million miles a minute. This gorgeous man, who Stiles had embarrassed himself in front of within minutes of meeting each other was asking him out? Its been a while since Stiles had seriously considered dating. After college, he was eager to get his career started and in that time, it seemed like everyone had chosen to focus on relationships. When he chose to move across the country for a fresh start, he did it with the idea that it'd be a whole new dating pool. 

Then he’d gotten this job and rarely had time or energy to go out like he did when he was an undergrad. Now he’s a tax paying adult with a retirement fund and health benefits. And since the pickings were slim in his dating pool, he’d somehow gotten entangled with Greenberg. 

He remembers vividly how it happened a few months ago. Everyone had made plans to go out for drinks one Friday after work. He remembers badgering Isaac to go with him because it was his first outing with their office mates since he started working there and he wanted to integrate himself into the familiarity they all seemed to treat each other with. 

They’d walked in and immediately found seats at the bar. He and Isaac were talking with some of their coworkers ordering drinks, engaging in banter, and at some point Greenberg had joined their small group. After a few drinks the others had wandered off leaving the pair at the bar. Stiles had a pleasant buzz going when Isaac spotted a hot guy and called “dibs!” before leaving him to talk to the tan guy on the other side of the room. 

He had grumbled to himself and finished off his drink before turning back to ask for another. Completely forgetting that Greenberg was sitting with them, Stiles startled when he tried picking up the conversation they were in before Isaac had dashed away.

Greenberg was nice. Sweet in a naïve sort of way. Stiles recalls how that last drink had gotten him tipsy enough to express his dating woes. Greenberg had listened sympathetically and agreed that dating is hard.

Stiles had finished his drink and conceded that it was probably time for him to go home. Greenberg had offered to walk him out when Stiles stumbled off the stool and waited with him by the curb as he struggled to hail a cab. 

Stiles remembers now why Whiskey Sours were dangerous to him. They made him horny and ramped his feelings of loneliness way up. 

Which is why when the cab stopped in front of them and Greenberg turned after saying goodbye, Stiles reached out to grab his wrist and asked him if he wouldn’t mind going back home with him. The rest is well, how he ended up here.

He never had the heart to fully turn away someone like Greenberg who seemed so earnest to spend time with him in whatever way he could. He knows it makes him cowardly and selfish but it was convenient to him. It sounds bad, but it was the honest truth.

Now, here was Derek saying he enjoyed Stiles’ company and actually managed to listen to everything Stiles had thrown at him in a jumble when he thought the plane was going down. He knew the most embarrassing parts of him, parts Stiles had sworn he would take to the grave, and still wants to take him out to dinner.

He slightly ducks his head and looks at Derek bashfully with a faint smile, “I—Yes. I mean, I’d really like that.” 

Derek's shoulders drop a little as he let out a breathless laugh of relief, almost as if he was bracing himself for rejection. The smile Derek gives him at his response makes his insides turn to mush. His eyes crinkle in delight and his smile is genuine, showing off dimples Stiles hadn’t noticed before. 

“Great! Here, give me your number so I can text you the details for tomorrow,” he says, handing Stiles a sticky note and pen.

Stiles takes the proffered items and quickly jots down his number before standing up to hand it back over. 

His arms flop down to his sides and he rubs the outside of his thighs in an effort to conceal his sweaty palms. 

“Okay, well I’ll just get out of your hair,” he jabs his thumb over his shoulder gesturing back in the direction of the open door. 

“I’ll see you later Stiles,” Derek sends him off with a soft smile. 

He returns the smile and makes his way towards the door, quickly looking back to see Derek looking down at the sticky note with his number on it with a soft quirk to his lips and his smile breaks out into a full on grin.

He makes it back to his desk and struggles to wipe the surely smitten look off his face before someone like Kate can grill him about his high spirits. 

~~~

Stiles rushes down the street and almost brains himself after tripping on a crack in the sidewalk in his haste to get to the apartment he and Scott share.

He finally slows to make it through the gate in front of the brownstone and makes his way up the steps. He’s grateful they’re only on the second floor because he hasn’t been hitting the gym lately and is puffing a little too much for his liking when he reaches their door.

He hangs his messenger bag up on the hook they have situated by the door and toes his shoes off before making his way towards Scott’s room. He comes to a halt, seeing that the door is firmly shut and debates whether he should knock or not. Deciding this can’t wait, he quickly raps his knuckles against the door. He calls out, “Scott! Kitchen, now!”

He heads towards the narrow kitchen and washes his hand before pulling open the fridge to grab a slice of leftover pizza from the night before. Scott had been true to his word when he promised Stiles there would be a pizza waiting for him once he got home from the airport. 

He stands there with the fridge door open and debates heating it up. If he heats it up, he runs the risk of a soggy crust that doesn’t taste quite right. Or he could just eat it cold. He shrugs to himself and takes a bite into the slice, deciding he’s too impatient to wait for the time it’ll take to heat up. 

He grabs two beers before shutting the door with his foot, the glass containers clinking together as he holds the necks of the bottles in one hand and his pizza slice in the other.

He carefully maneuvers himself to the small table they have set up in front of the window and places the beers on the surface. He sits down and finishes the pizza as Scott comes to a stop in the kitchen’s archway. His hair is disheveled, almost as if someone had been running their hands through it and his shirt is slightly askew. 

  
He spots a figure passing behind him even though Stiles thinks the whole point of him not fully entering the kitchen yet is to block his view of whoever’s leaving. Stiles raises both of his eyebrows at Scott.

And because he’s _him,_ he simply can’t pass up the golden opportunity being presented to him and obnoxiously yells out, “Bye!”

He hears a squeak of alarm and then the sound of the door slamming shut. He grins to himself, satisfied in making the person aware they weren’t as sneaky as they were attempting to be. Scott gives him a displeased look but walks over when he spots the beer set out for him.

He shakes his head and only offers a disapproving, “Dude, not cool.”

Stiles rolls his eyes and pops the lids off their beers. He learned how to open beer bottles with each other and thinks it's one of the best things he learned in college. 

“You know, Scott, if you would just go ahead and just _introduce_ us I wouldn’t have to do things like that,” he holds out the opened beer to Scott and sets his own in front of him. 

Scott rolls his own eyes and takes a swig of his drink before sighing, “I guess you’re right. I will, soon. We’ve just been figuring things out.” He starts picking at the label on the bottle before speaking up, “Anyways, what is it that had you banging in like a madman right after work?”

“Oh! Duuuude. Remember that guy I was telling you about yesterday? The one from the plane?” Stiles practically bursts, the anticipation had been killing him for the rest of the work day. He was almost vibrating at his desk when the time to go home slowly ticked closer.

“The hot guy from the plane? Yeah, why?” Scott frowns at Stiles’ mention of the stranger. 

“Well, he showed up today—” he began before Scott interrupted him, a look of horror crossing his face.

“ _What?!_ You mean like he, he followed you to work? Stiles, that’s creepy!” Scott exclaims. He looks like he’s about to stand up and go looking for this guy himself but Stiles puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“No, Scott! Nothing like that. Listen to this. The guy’s name is Derek Hale. He co-founded the company I work for,” Stiles flails out his arms in disbelief.

Scott’s mouth drops open in genuine shock, “No freaking way.” He begins laughing hysterically, “Oh my god! That _would_ happen to you!” 

He starts slapping his hand against the table and Stiles scowls because yeah, he’s right. Irritated, he mimics Scott’s laugh because Scott brings out his petulant side. Scott fans his face, his laughs coming to a stop and wipes a tear from the corner of his eye.

Stiles takes a long swallow of his beer to let Scott compose himself. He brings the bottle away and continues, “ _Anyway_. Like I was saying before you oh so rudely interrupted me. He’s my boss and he knows all of my secrets and deepest desires!”

“That’s not so bad. I mean, _I_ know all of your secrets and our relationship is solid,” Scott tells him matter of fact. 

Stiles doesn’t answer for a moment because technically, there is _one_ thing he’s kept from Scott. He remembers telling Derek the thing he hasn’t been able to admit to his childhood best friend.

_I had a sex dream about my best friend, Scott, a few weeks ago! We grew up together, he’s basically my brother, so that’s like incest! I couldn’t look him directly in the eye for an entire_ week, _man. The worst part is that it was so hot!_

Scott examines him closely then narrows his eyes in suspicion, “He doesn’t know anything I don’t...right, Stiles?” 

“I, uh, what? No. No, that’s ridiculous Scott, you’re my bro,” Stiles hopes the lie isn’t obvious. They’ve known each other for so long, so _of course_ they know how to read the other person. 

There’s a pregnant pause and they both bring their bottles up to take a sip, eyeing each other warily. 

Scott seems to buy the pathetic lie Stiles told him, or tries to ignore the possibility that he’s hiding something because he asks, “Did he bring it up? What happened?”

Grateful for the return to the subject at hand Stiles explains, “Well I went to talk to him to see if he’d be willing to not say anything about any of the things I said and he was surprisingly cooperative. I mean he did ask me not to tell anyone that we were on the same flight, that’s weird right?”

Scott clearly contemplates the question then hums, “Yeah, why wouldn’t he want anyone to know he was in Chicago? Maybe he lives a double life?” He strokes his jaw, deep in thought. “I can’t really say.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. Oh, _and_ he asked me out to dinner. I said yes,” he rushes out. He bites his lip in anticipation for Scott’s opinion on this.

There’s a rule in nearly every workplace. Some are more forgiving in their policies than others but it’s usually frowned upon when a superior dates a subordinate. Technically, his direct supervisor is Lydia so it shouldn’t toe too many lines, but still. Derek doesn’t seem like the type to take advantage of his position so Stiles doesn’t feel like that’s what his intentions are. 

Scott tilts his head to the side to study Stiles. Whatever he sees on his face seems to make the decision for what he’s about to say. “That’s great, man. But, you agreed on your own terms, right?” He sounds worried, though he makes an attempt to mask it with enthusiasm for Stiles’ sake.

“No, yeah. He even told me it was okay to say no if I really wanted to,” He lets out a breath and wets his lips before going on. “But I want to go out with him. I mean he asked me out even after everything I told him. _That’s_ what I’ve been looking for, someone who wants me for me.” 

Scott nods his assent. He knows being single has affected Stiles more than he’s willing to let on. Plus, this Derek guy seems to have seen what every other person hasn’t been able to. The fact that Stiles is the embodiment of the word awesome. He’s fiercely loyal, dangerously smart, funny as fuck, protective of those he cares about, and has the biggest heart of anyone Scott knows (excluding his mother).

“I’m glad. It’s about time someone recognizes the gem that you are, dude! When are you guys going out?” Scott asks.

“We’re going out tomorrow night. He said he was going to text me. I gave him my number after we talked. So I wanted to ask if you could give me the password to that speakeasy you took me to that one time, please, please, please,” he begs hoping Scott will budge.

“Stiles. I told you how they are there, they don’t like new people bringing guests!” Scott huffs.

“Please, I need somewhere we can have a good time. Do you want me to end up single forever? This could be my one shot at love, Scott!” Stiles continues to pester him by repeatedly saying _‘please’_ until Scott relents.

“Fine, okay! Just shut up will you?” He mutters something under his breath that Stiles ignores because he should know Stiles has the ability to be ten times more annoying. 

He whoops, “Yes! Thanks, bro. I owe you one.” He finishes his beer and stands up ruffling Scott’s shaggy hair and passes by the recycling bin, dropping in his bottle before walking towards his room.

He’s at the archway when he turns back and makes sure Scott’s looking at him before offering, “Don’t forget to brush your hair before you Skype your mom. And fix your shirt, it’s a dead give away that you were getting some lady lovin’ earlier, dude.”

He cackles as Scott splutters and begins to fix his hair. He pads through the living room and slides open the door to his room. He closes the door partially and begins stripping his clothes off. 

He and Scott developed a system once they moved in to their own place. If the door was wide open it means the other’s company was welcomed for cuddles, conversation, or anything the other might need as a bro. Slightly ajar meant ‘I need some me time but knock if you need anything’. A firmly shut door meant ‘I’m busy, go away’ or ‘I’m not talking to you right now’ after the whole spaghetti debacle last summer. It had been messy.

Stiles knew when he walked in what the door meant, but he needed to tell Scott before he burst at the news of having kept the news to himself for _hours_. Scott didn’t seem too upset though, and Stiles had announced where he’d be once Scott was done with whatever (or whoever) he was busy with.

He ruffles through a drawer filled with his loungewear and chooses his softest shirt and bottoms before heading to the bathroom for a shower. 

By the time he returns to his room, freshly washed and sleepy from the warm water he flops onto his bed and moans at finally getting to relax. He’s on the brink of sleep when he hears a faint text notification ding. He scrambles up, realizing in his rush to spill the juiciest part of his day, he left his phone in his bag.

He practically sprints to reach his phone. His pulse quickening when he remembers someone had promised to text him earlier. 

He roots around his bag and his fingers bump into the smooth surface of his phone case which he quickly tugs out. He scurries back to his room and slides the door closed. He jumps onto his bed and finally taps the screen to see he has a text from an unknown number.

**Unknown**

**9:05 pm**

_Goodnight Stiles. See you tomorrow. -Derek_

He lets a wide smile cover his face and can’t help but feel like a teenager with a crush. He adds Derek's number to his contacts and returns to the text, fingers typing out a quick reply.

**Stiles**

**9:06pm**

_Goodnight! Can’t wait :)_

He doesn’t know if Derek is referring to seeing him in the office or later for their date but it doesn’t matter to him. He leans half his body off the bed to reach for his charger and plugs his phone in. He turns on Do Not Disturb and rolls over to smile into his pillow. He really can’t wait for tomorrow.


	4. High, Bye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyyyy...how y'all doin'? I know, I know it's been over a month?? give or take but whew has it been eventful. I want to take this time to ask that you all please take the time to actively be anti-racist and continue to learn from the Black community. there are so many resources available on the internet, if you're having trouble finding them don't be afraid to reach out. to any trans readers I may have, i love you. all black lives matter. if you feel i'm being 'too political', i'm not. this a matter of people being denied their basic human rights. I'm struggling to find the right things to say but i hope you all stay safe.

The next morning, Stiles swears the sun shines brighter, the birds sing louder, hell even the usual stench of the street doesn’t seem as potent. When he meets up with Isaac halfway through his commute, the other man cocks a brow at his friend’s unusually chipper demeanor. 

“Did you actually get laid last night? Actually wait, don’t answer that. Whenever you hook up with Greenberg you seem more...ashamed than pleased,” he wrinkles his nose at the image that must pop up in his mind. 

Stiles comes to an abrupt stop and deflates at the mention of Greenberg.

“Oh my— I completely forgot about him!” He curses to himself and stares out unseeingly at the pavement in front of him, mind working quickly. He looks back to meet Isaac’s questioning gaze and groans, “What am I going to do? I still don’t know how to end things without making them awkward.” 

“Jeez. Did I tell you he wanted to have the 'what are we' talk when he picked me up at the airport?” Isaac chokes on the coffee he was in the middle of drinking and Stiles quickly begins to pat him on the back.

“Are you okay, dude?” Stiles asks after a few seconds of listening to the violent coughs coming from the hunched figure. His concerned expression turns into one of indignation when he realizes the coughs have slowly morphed into laughter.  
  
He huffs and the hand that was patting Isaac goes up in exasperation. “Yes, ha ha very funny.” He rolls his eyes and begins walking away.

He stops after a few paces and turns back to snark, “You know what? You don’t even deserve to hear what I was going to tell you.”

He turns back around and grumbles insults as he waits for Isaac to catch up to him. What? He might be annoyed but he won’t leave him alone. Plus Isaac makes this part of his commute better, and they’re going the same way anyway. So, yeah. 

He hears the click of boots behind him before a hand comes up to clap him on the shoulder. Isaac shakes him a little and says, “I’ve got to say Stiles, you’ve got shit luck. I really don’t know how you manage it.” 

Stiles rolls his eyes again and tries to shrug off the hand, resuming the walk to the office. The hand manages to slide down to his arm and Isaac tugs at Stiles while keeping up with his stride, “Wait, what were you going to tell me?”

He ignores him and continues walking, looking down at his watch on the arm that isn’t being poked at. They’re about 5 minutes away but have an extra 10 minutes to spare.

Isaac whines, “Stiles, what were you going to tell me?” Stiles turns and comes face to face with Isaac’s version of puppy dog eyes. They’re not as effective as Scott’s but still pretty damn adorable. 

“I’m sorry! But tell me...please? Pretty please? Pretty please with a cherry on top?” He shakes the arm he has encased in his own lightly and Stiles sighs.

“Fine. But no _latkes_ for you today, I was planning on sharing during lunch.”

Isaac gasps loudly. “Aw, no! I’m sorry! Please don’t separate me from my _latkes_ , I am _begging._ Have mercy sir,” he retracts his arms and brings his hands up to clasp them together.

Stiles decides not to answer and stops a block from their destination. He won’t actually keep the food from Isaac but the threat is punishment for his earlier reaction at his dilemma. 

“ _Anyway._ What I was going to tell you—before you almost hacked your lung out back there—was that I need to end things with Greenberg." He says, rubbing his bottom lip anxiously at the thought. "The only problem is I have no idea how to do it since he seems to think we should ‘take our relationship to the next level’,” he brings his hands up to make air quotes. 

Isaac’s face scrunches up in confusion, “Why would he think that? I mean hooking up with him was a bad idea from the start." Isaac looks down at his coffee cup and seems to be thinking aloud when he mentions, "Plus, it doesn’t help that he can’t seem to pick up social cues like most people do.” 

That’s true. He can recall a time in the lounge room when he was waiting for his food to heat up, Greenberg and someone else from Accounting had walked in. The poor guy looked like he just wanted to be left alone, but when he stated he was just grabbing his lunch from the fridge and heading to the outside seating, Greenberg invited himself along saying it’d be nice to spend some time in the sun.

The guy had looked at Stiles helplessly but Stiles resolutely kept his eyes trained on the dish in the microwave hoping they'd leave before the timer beeped. He did _not_ want to be all up in that mess.

He remembers the guy’s stuttered out agreement and the pair had disappeared, Greenberg’s voice growing fainter the further they got away. 

“I know that. Plus I’ve already told you not to judge me! I’m just going through some things, okay?”

Isaac eyes him skeptically and continues, “Right. So, why don’t you just tell him the truth? You’re not interested in a relationship and should stop what you do have altogether.”

He considers that and nods. Simple yet effective. Seems he over-thought this situation like he usually does, it's just that he absolutely loathes feeling like he’s letting someone down. But, it's not fair for him to only be considering his own feelings when there's someone else involved. He sighs at the situation he created for himself.

“Okay, well if you didn’t get any last night what’s with the extra pep in your step? Did you have special tea this morning? Also what happened that made you decide you’re finally putting an end to the arrangement you two have?” Isaac asks, head tilted in confusion.

“Firstly, I’ll tell you more during lunch since we don’t have enough time right now,” He holds up three fingers and brings one down after answering the first question. “Secondly, no I didn’t. Scott took it away when I had that bad trip, “ he pouts slightly bringing a second finger down as he remembers the pictures of random objects in his camera roll the next day.

“And this one kind of ties in to the first question but basically I just can’t keep doing this to the poor guy. Especially since he seems to think there’s an ‘us’ in the first place.” He answers putting the final finger down and flicks at a piece of sleep stabbing the inner corner of his eye. 

Isaac hums, “Makes sense.” He shakes the coffee cup in his hand and frowns when he realizes it's empty. He sighs before nudging Stiles to keep moving, “C’mon. I need another coffee before I can even think about being productive.”

They keep walking and turn down the street making their way towards the modern building.

“You were joking about the _latkes_ , right?” Isaac brings up as they’re reaching the entrance to the building. His blue eyes are wide in genuine concern. 

Stiles side eyes him but says nothing. Instead, he reaches to open the heavy door.

Stiles smiles to himself as he makes his way inside and greets the receptionist, flashing his company badge as he passes by.

“ _Stiles?!_ Please say sike.”

~~~

His stomach had been in knots the moment they boarded the elevator. Thoughts of running into Derek and wondering what he was going to say or how he was going to act around him making sweat prickle uncomfortably at his underarms.

Turns out, his nerves had been for naught. He hadn’t spotted Derek all morning and overheard Kate complain to Matt that she wouldn’t get a chance to impress Mr. Hale since he’ll be busy with meetings for the rest of the day. Apparently there’s a lot he needs to catch up with from the past two years. 

When it’s finally time for lunch, Stiles pulls out his phone and sends a text to Isaac.

**Stiles**

**12:14 p.m.**

_Patio or lounge?_

**Eye-sick**

**12:16 p.m.**

_lounge_

**Eye-sick**

**12:16 p.m.**

_does this mean ur sharing???_

**Stiles**

**12:17 p.m.**

_come find out loser :p_

Stiles locks his computer and stands, stretching as he does so. He makes his way to the stairs and ascends them to the floor above. The entire floor is designed as a lounge room where people can come to recharge during their breaks. Along the wall are sleek gray kitchen cabinets to match the modern design of the entire office and black stainless steel appliances. Two refrigerators, a conventional oven, and a microwave are all fitted into the cabinets. It looked like something out of _Architectural Digest_. 

Stiles makes his way to the conventional oven and peers inside. The _latkes_ he came up here earlier to reheat seemed to have crisped up beautifully. He knows he should have supervised them as they were heating up but it was only ten minutes and he’s given them plenty of time to cool so they’re ready to eat as soon as his lunch starts.

He’s carefully dividing them on two plates when he hears footsteps thundering up the stairs. He snorts knowing it could only be one person making that much noise in their haste to reach him. Or more specifically, the dish in front of him. 

He turns, blocking the plates from the sight of the person who comes closer with panting breaths. 

Isaac’s wide eyes stare at him and he seems to be almost vibrating in anticipation. 

“Hey man,” he puffs out. Stiles reaches behind and grabs the edge of one plate, carefully bringing it around his front. He stretches out the plate and brings it back to him quickly, closing his eyes and inhaling dramatically.

“Mmm...smells delicious,” he opens his eyes and sees the way Isaac’s hands came up thinking Stiles was handing him the plate. His sight is set on the plate and he shoots a hopeless look to the man carrying it. 

“Sour cream is in the fridge, go ahead and grab it.” He reaches behind once again and brings out the second plate. Isaac looks like he could almost cry in relief. 

Stiles shakes his head in amusement at his friend's reaction and heads for one of the tables. The lounge room has a door that leads directly to the patio, and he can see a few people through the large windows lining the wall soaking up some sun during their own break. 

Isaac plops down in front of him with the container of sour cream and pops the lid open quickly to dollop a generous amount onto his plate. He slides it hurriedly to Stiles and licks his lips before digging in.

Stiles stares on, transfixed by the sight in front of him. In a blur of sour cream and _latkes,_ Isaac never disappoints in boosting Stiles’ ego with the zealous way he devours the dish.

He remembers the first time he had shared them with Isaac. He distinctly recalls a marriage proposal in between the bites and pornographic noises his new friend had made throughout their lunch. He thinks that was the moment that defined their friendship, there was no way you could get rid of a friend who made one of the most amazing things you’ve ever tasted.

Isaac himself seemed to be shocked at how much he enjoyed the dish but Stiles had proudly announced it was a recipe handed down from generations on his mother’s side and stated it had better be a damn good dish.

He began eating his own serving at a more sedated pace and waited for Isaac to finish. There’s no one who could come between the guy and the food in front of him. He decides to fill Isaac in on whats happened in the past few days. Could this be considered hot office gossip? He and Isaac haven’t really bonded with other coworkers the way they did with each other so he figures his news will be safe and the lounge room _is_ empty. 

He dabs at the corners of his mouth with a napkin before speaking. “Okay, we have an hour but I feel like there’s so much you’re going to need to process so I’m just gonna talk while you finish eating.” 

Isaac bobs his head in acknowledgement to show Stiles he’s listening. 

“So, the reason I need to end things with Greenberg is because I’m interested in someone else. And that someone else asked me on a date yesterday. Also, he’s our boss.” He reveals, bringing a fist up and nervously chewing on the edge of a hangnail on his thumb as he waits for Isaac's reaction.

He wanted to start from the very beginning from when they met on the plane back home, but he can recall Derek asking him to not mention the fact that he was in Chicago. He has faith in Isaac’s ability to keep it a secret if asked to, but he promised he wouldn’t say anything. 

The fork freezes midway to Isaac’s mouth and blue eyes stare back at him unblinkingly. He puts down the fork and rubs at his ear as if to dislodge a blockage. “Come again?”

Stiles fidgets with his digits and his skittish gaze flicks between the food in front of him and his friend.

Isaac’s eyelids flutter rapidly as he blinks at the unexpected news. “Did you just say our _boss_ asked you on a date? Dude, that’s like a gross abuse of power!” 

His friend’s eyebrows draw together and he seems to be getting more upset the longer he thinks about it. “Stiles he—he can’t just get away with this!” 

He feels something warm blooming in his chest that both of his close friends reacted in a similar manner. It’s nice knowing they care this much about him and are trying to make sure he isn’t being taken advantage of, even if that isn’t the case at all. 

Stiles puts both his hands up placatingly and tries to reassure him, “C’mon man, trust me. I wouldn’t do something I don’t want to do, you know that. Doesn’t matter if he is our boss or not. He was very sweet about it plus have you _seen_ him? And I have it on good authority that he is a very good listener.”

His lips twitch at his own joke but he attempts to keep a straight face as Isaac’s face smooths out at the reassurance. 

“Oh," Isaac responds as he takes in this information. The line of his shoulders slowly relax as he continues, "Okay, I trust you. But if he tries anything you’re not comfortable with, you tell me and I’m going to make his days here a living hell by asking Danny to give him ‘mysterious tech trouble’. Capische?” His fork stabs a little aggressively at what’s left on his plate and chews angrily. 

He rolls his eyes in an exasperated yet fond way at Isaac’s words. Though the warning is valid. Isaac can get Danny to do just about anything since he has the poor guy wrapped around his finger. He just doesn’t know that and thinks Danny is doing it out of the kindness of his heart. 

Psh, yeah right. The last time Stiles had some issues with his computer he’d had to drag himself all the way down to the I.T. department since no one answered their damn phone and had to pester Danny to help him. 

At first, Danny seemed annoyed that Stiles didn’t want to take his advice of ‘turning it on and off again’ until Stiles had muttered how Isaac was wrong about ‘how helpful’ the I.T. department was. Mentioning Isaac seemed to do the trick because Danny had done a full 180 and proceeded to eagerly offer to ‘take a look’ at his computer. 

Confused at his abrupt attitude change, Stiles led him to the marketing floor. He remembers looking back and catching Danny’s attempt at a nonchalant glance across the room, but it was obvious he was looking for someone in particular when he deflated in disappointment. _Oh. Interesting._

“You know, Isaac actually works up in PR. May or may not run into him down here.” He shrugged a shoulder and had tried to stifle a laugh when Danny turned his wide eyes on him.

“I- uh...what? I mean, who?” He laughed nervously. Stiles had stared him down with a meaningful look until the other man sighed, knowing he’d been found out. “Just...show me where the computer is.” 

“ _Anyway_. That’s the whole reason I had a ‘pep in my step’ as you said. We’re going out tonight, but first I need to tell Greenberg this ship has sailed.” He drops his head in his hands and lets out a breath, his lips fluttering slightly.

“He also knows about Greenberg...which brings up a whole new can of worms.” He groans loudly into the empty room and slides down the chair. 

Isaac squints at him somewhat judgmentally. “Stiles, why would you willingly share that information with someone?!” 

Snorting in disbelief at the question he says, “I don’t know!”

He begins laughing now at the absurdity of the situation he finds himself in. Isaac joins him soon after and they two of them are red faced and fanning at their faces to compose themselves.

“Oh, man. You really have done it this time. Although I have a new found respect for you. I mean, snagging possibly the hottest CEO I’ve ever seen on his first day back? Legendary.” 

He shakes his head. “It’s not even like that he just, I don’t know. It’s going to sound cliché because it _is,_ but he just seems so different from other people I’ve met.”

“Alright, but you’d better get a hold of Greenberg before the end of the day. He deserves that at least.”

Stiles’ hangs his head but nods at Isaac’s words. He’s right he can’t help but feel guilty for seemingly leading the guy on.

“Yeah, I’ll make sure to catch him before he leaves today.”

Satisfied that the issue was settled for now, Isaac dug back into the dish. Near the end of their lunch hour, Stiles can’t bring himself to tell him he has a bit of sour cream at the corner of his mouth. Isaac mentioned going down to visit Danny before he had to go back to the PR floor and Stiles smirked picturing how _that_ interaction would go down.

He’s back at his desk trying to shove the now clean Tupperware in his bag when his phone vibrates in his pocket.

**Eye-sick**

**1:15 p.m.**

_ur the worst and i hate u_

**Stiles**

**1:15 p.m**

_liar! say hi to danny for me ;)_

He snickers to himself and is about to shove his phone into his bag along with the container when it vibrates once again. His heart leaps when he sees the unexpected notification.

**Derek**

**1:16 p.m.**

_Get back to work ;p_

He scoffs out a small laugh and straightens up to look around the open space. He spots the back of Derek’s head as he makes his way down the hall to where the conference rooms are. Stiles can’t help the way his eyes drift down to admire his back and then land on his ass. He realizes Derek must have dressed up for the meetings he had today because the button up and slacks are a far cry from the casual attire he donned yesterday. Damn, those slacks should be illegal. 

Aware that he’s staring (and possibly drooling a little bit), he quickly snaps his attention back up and catches the smirk thrown his way just as the other man disappears around the corner. 

**Stiles**

**1:17 p.m.**

_aye aye cap’n_

He lets a small smile cross his face before locking his phone and placing it in his bag. Just a few more hours until he gets Derek all to himself.

~~~

The day had dragged on which Stiles was both grateful and restless for. Restless because he wanted to rush home to get ready for his _date_. But grateful because it meant he had plenty of time to prepare what he wanted to say to Greenberg.

He shut his computer down a few minutes early and decided to leave. He vows to make up for the time tomorrow but right now he wants to make sure he’ll catch Greenberg before he makes it to his car.

He’s leaning against a parking meter when he spots Greenberg exiting the building. Thankfully he’s alone, so it's easy for Stiles to catch his attention from where he stands. 

Greenberg looks pleasantly surprised to find Stiles waiting for him and makes his way over. When he’s close enough he graces Stiles with a warm greeting and shy smile. 

The thing was Stiles _did_ find Greenberg attractive. Otherwise, their whole arrangement wouldn’t have come to be. And the guy is actually really nice, but they never seemed to click the way Stiles thought they would eventually. 

“Hi Greg,” Stiles says around a wobbly smile. Aw, man he’s starting to feel guilty again. _Dammit Stiles, get it together._

“Not that I mind or anything but you don’t usually...wait for me?" Greenberg’s forehead crinkles slightly in concern. "Is something wrong?” 

Riiight. After that first night, Stiles had asked for them not to interact in a way that would rouse suspicion amongst their colleagues. He can’t blame the guy for thinking something’s happened that would cause Stiles to go against his own wishes.

“Oh–um, no! Don’t worry I’m fine. I just needed to talk to you about something.”

“Oh, okay then...what’s on your mind?”

Stiles takes in a deep breath and makes an effort to maintain eye contact with the man in front of him. _It’s like ripping off a band-aid. Right?_

“Greg...I’ve been thinking a lot lately about who we’ve been to each other for the past few months. And I–I appreciate how sweet you’ve been through it all but I just can’t keep doing this to you." He shakes his head a little at himself before saying with as much conviction as he can, "You deserve something amazing with someone who will give you what I can’t give you right now.” 

Greenberg’s face flickers through different expressions, ones that leave Stiles’ gut burning with shame and a little bit of sadness, before crumpling into one of hurt.

“Wha…What? I thought we were going to...ugh I’m such a fool!" He grunts, facepalming. "I mean, of course, someone like you wouldn’t want to be with someone like _me._ ” Greenberg says that last part so softly that Stiles almost doesn’t catch it as his head drops in a dejected way.

Taken aback, he quickly reaches out and grasps his shoulder firmly. “Hey, no. I’m sorry, I should have been honest with you before it got to this point, and that’s on me. Greg, please don’t ever think you’re not worthy of being with someone, because you always will be. Us? We just wouldn’t work in that sense.” 

Greenberg nods quickly before stepping out of his grasp. “I’ll see you around then, Stiles. I need to be anywhere but here right now." His body is taut and his face is turned to the side, eyes desperately looking for something to land on anything that isn't Stiles. "I hope you understand.” 

Stiles blinks at how quickly the other man seemed to process his words and opened his mouth to give his own farewell. Greenberg turns without waiting for a reply and takes off at a brisk pace.

The hand Stiles raised to wave goodbye flops back down to his side and does a quick sweep of the area to see if anyone had noticed them. Satisfied that no one caught their display, Stiles begins making his way in the opposite direction of where Greenberg fled. 

As he waits at a crosswalk, he pulls out his phone and sends Derek his address and an estimated time of when he’ll be ready. He hopes the trek back home will give him enough time to sort out his emotions.

~~~

Walking into the apartment, Stiles passed by Scott completely engrossed in playing the Sims 4. His greeting was met with, “Hey Stiles! Can’t talk, trying to seduce the Grim Reaper.”   
  


Deciding it’s better for their friendship for Scott _not_ to elaborate on that, he makes his way to his room to strip and grab a clean towel to shower. He had planned to take a quick nap before he got ready for his date but the subway had broken down as Stiles was waiting for it. The delay had taken half an hour and means that he now has to rush to get ready. 

Derek had responded while he was getting off on his stop saying he would come around to pick him up at 7. It was a little after 6:30 now, shit. 

He thanks every deity known to man that having short hair meant taking less time under the spray and grabs the clean towel to pat himself dry. In his haste to get clean, he forgot to grab a fresh set of clothes and he sighs bracing himself for the slight chill he’s going to face after leaving the warmth of the bathroom. 

He situates the towel securely around his hips and opens the door to be immediately met with Scott’s wide eyes. Instantly on alert, Stiles squints at him. They’ve been in each other’s lives long enough to be able to communicate through facial expressions.

**_Don’t be mad._ **

A slight purse of his lips. _What did you do?_

Scott’s eyes dart to his left before focusing on Stiles again. He follows the gesture and then his own eyes widen. Standing in their living room and studying the pictures on their shelves is Derek. 

His eyebrows furrow and one pulls up in alarm. _He’s early!_

His eyes flick down at his bare chest. _And I’m naked!_

In a motion so quick he could have missed it, one of his dark eyebrows lifts up mischievously and Scott’s dimple shows up before disappearing as he schools his face.

**_As if you aren’t planning to be later on. Sooner is better than later, no?_ **

He feels the corner of his eye twitch. _Shut up. What do I do?_

He doesn’t catch what Scott might have suggested because Derek clears his throat. “Hey Stiles, sorry I’m a little early. Your roommate let me in, I hope that’s okay. I just wasn’t sure how long…”

He trails off when Scott moves out of the way to reveal Stiles standing in the doorway of the bathroom. Derek’s gaze moves down to his chest and follows a droplet that makes its way from his shoulder down to his torso. Stiles feels a flush blooming on his face and traveling rapidly down his neck. Derek snaps himself out of whatever trance he was in and swallows noticeably before training his eyes on Stiles’ own.

“Sorry–I uh. I’ll let you do what you need to do,” he manages out in a distracted tone. Stiles smiles at him before hastily shuffling to his room. 

He gently closes the door and begins rooting for something acceptable to wear. He changes at record speed, struggling into the skinny jeans Isaac got him last Christmas. After he wore them for the first time, Isaac warned they weren’t workplace appropriate because they did wonders for his legs and cupped his ass quite nicely if he did say so himself. 

He runs some product through his hair so it has some shape and does a quick swipe of deodorant before opening the door. 

Derek whips around from where he was standing at the noise of the door opening and grins at him. Stiles walks closer and grins back bashfully.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” 

They stare at each other, lost in the other’s eyes before the moment is broken when Scott walks out from the kitchen. 

“As wonderful as this is, don’t you have someplace to be? Like, somewhere only an amazing person would know the location of?” He says that last part pointedly to Stiles and he responds by glaring at him. 

“I get it, we’re going.” He grumbles then grabs Derek’s arm and gently guides him in the direction of the door. “C’mon Derek, I know when we’re being told to fuck off.” 

Derek lets himself be directed but has an adorably confused look on his face. “Sure? It was nice to meet you Scott!” He says, waving over his shoulder.

“I have a feeling I’ll be seeing a lot more of you, man.” 

Stiles spins back to close the door and flips Scott off, catching the rude gestures Scott throws back before he fully shuts the door. 

He turns to Derek and sees the amused look on his face. “Ready to go?” 

He nods without a word, too embarrassed at having been caught acting juvenilely.

“Lead the way,” Derek says with a dramatic sweep of his arms.

Stiles laughs and makes his way toward the steps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not a lot of Derek and Stiles in this chapter and I'm sorry about! But we're finally moving into the good stuff, eh eh? all mistakes are mine, sorry about that. I promise I'll be giving the people what they want very soon. thank you if you've gotten this far! I look forward to hearing from you all, sending my love muAh ;*


	5. Falling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of trouble deciding the direction I wanted to go in with this story tbh. I spent a lot of time thinking about how I should be writing instead of actually doing it. I'm trying to face and do the things I struggle with because the hardest part of the thing is actually starting it. this chapter has some light angst? (if you could even call it that) lol excuse any errors I might have missed. sorry!

It's been eight wonderful weeks of loaded glances, fleeting touches, and secret smiles at work. Every single time he gets so much as a whiff of Derek, his heart starts beating overtime. It’s like he’d forgotten the rush of what it felt like to date someone and now his body is intensifying every reaction and emotion. 

They’ve been careful at the office of course, because Stiles doesn’t want anyone thinking he’s trying to sleep his way to the top. Even though he is literally sleeping with his boss right now. 

Derek sleeping over has been a very new development and something he’s been enjoying thoroughly. After their first date, he’d accidentally fallen asleep after saying he shouldn’t stay and Stiles had missed the feeling of his solid presence ever since. 

Though he could do without Scott’s shit eating grins whenever he sees Stiles shutting the door after Derek’s retreating form early in the mornings. The teasing after their first night together had been nearly unbearable until Stiles brought up Scott’s own mystery guest. He had never heard someone’s jaw click together so fast and laughed until tears were rolling down the sides of his face. 

He gently strokes the hairs of the arm that’s strewn across his abdomen before turning his head to look at the form next to him. Half of the face is hidden in the pillow cradled by the arm folded underneath it. The triskele tattoo on display is moving rhythmically with the soft breaths Derek takes in deep sleep.

The beginning rays of sunrise are slowly making their way into the room and Stiles knows they have less than an hour before Derek makes to leave for his own place to get ready for the day.

He can’t place his finger on the feeling that’s brewing in his chest. He feels content in this moment but it feels like something is missing. Sighing, he withdraws his hand from the warm figure and rakes his hands through his hair slightly tugging with the frustration he feels at...something. 

Closing his eyes at an attempt to ground himself to this moment, he rests in a limbo of consciousness and sleep. 

It feels like only seconds later when he jolts to instant alertness. His heart is beating quickly and he looks around as if he will find the source of his unease. Realizing there’s nothing, he lets out a breath and takes note of the increased light in the space. 

Looks like it’s almost time for them to get their days started. As though hearing his thoughts, the arm around him tightens briefly before trailing up and a warm palm settles under his jaw to guide it towards its owner’s direction. 

Eyes half lidded with residual sleep blink up at him slowly before closing the space between them. Lips land on his cheek first before moving to meet his lips in a lingering kiss that’s tinged with their morning breath. 

Derek moves back slightly, his hand never leaving its position and his lips move up in a lazy smile before he lifts himself up on an elbow, “Good morning.” He gently tilts Stiles’ face down and drops a kiss to his forehead before making to get out of the bed, the sheets rustling with his movements. 

Warmth blooms in his chest at the gesture as he props himself up, “Good morning.” He watches Derek change from the borrowed sweatpants into his own clothes from the previous day. Hefting himself out from the cocoon of comfort, he makes towards the closed door to reach the bathroom. After brushing his teeth and rinsing his face, he exits to meet Derek in the hallway. 

Derek’s shrugging on his jacket when Stiles silently comes up behind him. He opens the door and Stiles follows him, stopping to lean against the door jam. “I’ll see you later.” 

Foreheads touching, a chaste kiss falls on his lips before the heat of his body is replaced by cool air. “Later.” Derek says, making it sound like more of a promise instead of a parting.

As he stands watching the retreating form, that same feeling from earlier this morning returns and he frowns to himself before closing the door absently. Still deep in thought, he mechanically moves through the motions of making his coffee and breakfast. 

Scott comes in as he waits for his bagel to pop out of the toaster. “Morning.” He greets around a yawn and opens the fridge. “Have a good night?” His eyebrows wiggle suggestively before they disappear as he bends to grab the ingredients for his breakfast. 

Stiles rolls his eyes at his antics and scoffs, “Morning Scotty, don’t you ever get tired of acting like a 12 year old boy?” 

Scott closes the fridge door and places the carton of oat milk on the counter. His eyes flit across his roommate’s face in a searching manner before he asks, “Are you okay?”

Taken by the unexpected question, his forehead crinkles, “Why do you ask?” 

“Usually you’d reply with something like ‘Shut up Scott as if you’re one to talk’ but,” he pauses to cross his arms consideringly. “Something’s bothering you.”

The bagels pop out of the toaster and Stiles jumps at the noise. He busies himself with spreading the honey neatly, taking the time to consider Scott’s question.

“I don’t know, I just—” he starts and shrugs one shoulder up. “I really don’t know.” He finishes lamely. 

“Okay. Let me know when you figure it out, yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

He takes a bite and forces himself to chew the suddenly bland tasting food. 

~~~

His mind is in a fog all day, noticeable enough that Isaac asks him the same question Scott had. He repeats the answer he gave earlier.

When Derek texts him asking if he wants him to pick up food later he has to remind him that it’s Thursday and he’s having dinner with his dad. 

He picks up his own food after work and doesn’t remember the walk home. When he’s sitting in front of his laptop with the Sheriff’s face on the screen, everything clicks. He stops mid bite and mumbles, “Oh shit.” 

His dad fixes him with the Stare and he apologizes quickly. His dad shakes his head fondly before he finishes recounting the events of his day and how he ran into his former classmate’s mom, Talia, at the grocery store. 

“She told me her eldest son was back in New York and I told her you’re out there, too. Wouldn’t it be nice for you both to have a familiar face in that big city?” 

“Dad, Talia’s son moved away when I was in the fifth grade. The only Hales I knew were their parents and the two youngest, Cora and Aaron.”

He only learned Derek was related to  _ those _ Hales because his dad had joked how their family seemed to breed entrepreneurs. Their oldest daughter had started a tech company in San Francisco, their son co-founded a  _ snack and drink _ company in New York, and their youngest daughter opened a fitness studio in Chicago. 

_ “What was their oldest son’s name again?”  _

_ “Hmmm was it Eric? No...Derek? Derek!”  _

_ “Derek Hale?”  _

_ “That’s right. Maybe you know his company since you’re in the same industry?” _

Yeah, he knew it. He  _ worked  _ for the company. He’d forced out a laugh and changed the subject. That was two weeks after they first went out and he didn’t want to tell his dad he did know Derek Hale, quite  _ intimately  _ actually. 

He brought it up to Derek the next time they went out and he had been oddly defensive about it. They'd been strolling sedately along the path that hugs the Hudson River after having dinner, their intertwined hands a source of warmth compared to the cooling night. Derek had been talking about his meeting with some investors and admitting how he found the whole schmoozing part of his title to be a pain. He knew the Hales came from old money, though now they prefer to use it to run a wolf sanctuary in the part of the Preserve their family owns, so he asked.

“Did your parents help you out when you first started the company?” He questioned before he could think about it. He wondered if moving across the country was a point of contention between Derek and his parents. 

Derek’s spine stiffened and he looked at Stiles from the corner of his eye, “Why do you ask about my parents?” 

Disoriented at the change from relaxed and open to tense and suspicious he weakly joked, “Well I mean they’re loaded, right? It would make sense, unless you wanted to be a totally ‘self made’ rich guy.” 

“How do you know who my parents are?” Derek stopped walking and dropped his hand, turning to face him. His face was stoic and eyes were hardened into a glare. “What are you getting at?” 

“Dude I’m just wondering, jeez. Listen if you don’t want to answer, that’s fine. I was just wondering what it must’ve been like to finally get out of Beacon Hills and decide to start a company here.” 

“I mean I only left because NYU was all I could think about as a kid and my mom loved it when she went there. If it was up to my dad, I would’ve gone to Berkeley or somewhere closer.” He says, looking out at the light glimmering on the water's rippling surface. He looks backs at Derek when he doesn't say anything.

“You...left?” Derek asked faintly. His glare melted into an indecipherable look. “I don’t follow.” 

“Huh? Well, I assumed the Derek Hale my dad told me about was you. Unless there’s  _ another _ Derek Hale who co-founded a company in New York. Hey, how common is your last name anyway?” He asked, his thoughts going off on a tangent.

“Not that common,” he muttered absently. “Wait. Your dad? Stiles...Stilinski. Stilinski as in  _ Deputy Stilinski _ ?” 

“It’s actually been Sheriff Stilinski for the past fifteen years, but yeah. Whoa, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Do you not like talking about your roots Mr. Big Shot?” He said teasingly in an attempt to lighten the odd tension between them.

Derek closed his eyes and turned his head, his jaw clenching before he ground out. “It's complicated.” 

“Oookay,” he drew out the vowel, feeling uncomfortable at the short reply. “For what it’s worth I think it’s kinda funny that the guy I’m dating is from my hometown when I swore up and down I would never end up dating someone who went to the same high school as me.”

“Funny. Right.”

“So, when you were in Chicago did you visit Cora? Apparently her classes are a really big thing so I don’t really get the secrecy but—” 

“No that’s not—can you stop talking about my family as if you know them?" He lets out in a frustrated huff. "Please.” 

Indignation boiled under his skin, “Dude what the  _ hell  _ is your problem? I’ve been in the same classes with Cora since preschool. Sure, we didn’t talk all that much but we literally grew up together." His fists had balled up in frustration at the turn of events and he splayed them in exasperation. "Also, it’s kinda hard not to know your family members or who they are when the town is so frickin’ small!” 

Derek moved a hand over his eyes. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just wasn’t expecting you to start asking about my parents, I mean it’s not like you see me asking questions about yours,” he grumbled out.

“Yeah, you didn’t have to ask because I already  _ told  _ you about my parents. My mom was the best doctor that town has ever seen and thinking of my dad’s job is almost enough to put me in an early grave. They met after he got hurt on the job. Ringing any bells?” 

Derek’s shoulders slumped as he let out a deep exhale. “I remember. Stiles, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to act like an ass.” He rubbed at the stubble along his jaw sheepishly, “I’ve been told I’m...too guarded when it comes to my family. It doesn’t excuse my behavior but I hope you can understand.” 

Feeling like he was missing something he asked, “What is there to understand?” 

“That’s something I’m not ready to talk about yet,” he said steadily. He moved closer and lightly picked up Stiles' hand. “I’ll let you know when I am, though. I promise.” He squeezed reassuringly before backing up to give him space.

A few moments passed as Stiles considered the words. “Okay.” His head nodded in acceptance as he repeated, “Okay.” 

  
  


But that was weeks ago and Derek only offered bits of information he already knew. The way his youngest brother moved back home after studying Wildlife Conservation to help their parents, which Stiles’ dad had already mentioned as he’s taken it upon himself to update his son on the happenings of the town. The only new pieces he learned was the name of the eldest Hale sibling, Laura, who he moved in with when he attended Cornell. After a bit of gentle prodding he also got him to share that’s where he met his late business partner and best friend Vernon Boyd. 

“Everything okay, son?” His dad's voice cuts through his thoughts. He blinks down at the food he was moving around before his head comes up to stare at the screen.

“Sorry, dad. I’ve just had a lot on my mind today,” he moves closer to the screen to peer at the logo of the bag that his dad accidentally moved into the frame. “Hey! Did you go to Luke’s? At least tell me you got something healthy-ish.” 

The Sheriff’s arm moves to flick the bag out of sight before guiltily meeting his son’s disapproving face. “Aw hell, kid. Let a man enjoy himself every now and then. You aren’t the only one who loves their curly fries and shakes. I’ll also let you know I prepared for this very situation so I asked him to give me this lettuce wrap.”

He brings up the half eaten lettuce wrap sitting in the container and lightly shakes it, “You’ve got him feeding me rabbit food! Does that look remotely appetizing to you?”

“Well, he’s not keeping to our deal if he’s letting you order curly fries  _ and _ a shake. Plus, everything from Luke’s is good, dad. Don’t even try to deny the fact that you’re enjoying that wrap.”

He watches the Sheriff’s mouth move but can only pick up the words  _ I guess  _ and  _ too damn smart  _ before snorting at the fact that his own father is mumbling to himself like a petulant child. 

He finishes his dinner and Scott comes in at one point to say hi to his dad before leaving with a squeeze to his shoulder. The gesture isn’t lost on the older man and he reminds him, “I’m always here for you, no matter what. Remember, I’m just a phone call away.” His face crinkles in concern and Stiles is harshly reminded of the fact that while he’s getting older, his dad is too. “Goodnight son, I love you.” 

“I love you, Pops. Goodnight.” He replies around the sudden lump in his throat. 

He shuts his laptop and moves it to lay on the cushion next to him. He gets up and gathers the trash from his dinner to dump it in the bin. 

Exhausted from the emotional battle he fought internally all day, he flops onto the soft duvet cover of his bed. A cloud of the detergent he uses intertwines with a smell he’s come to recognize as purely Derek invades his senses. 

A soft creak near the door signals Scott’s presence and he holds his arms out in invitation. Scott’s comforting weight settles on top of him before he’s gently rolled over so his head rests on the muscled shoulder of his best friend. 

“Did you figure out what was bothering you?” Scott asks as his fingers begin to form his hair into small spikes. 

He sighs, “I did.” He falls silent and enjoys the ministrations of the motions in his hair. Moments pass before he sits up to settle at the end of the bed. Scott sits up next to him and waits for him to continue.

“It bothers me that I don’t know much about Derek because he’s so,” his hands come out to gesture vaguely. “Secretive! Remember how I told you he was actually one of the Hales from home? I only knew that because  _ dad _ told me. Then when I asked him about his parents he got all weird.” 

“And what does that say about us if he doesn’t feel comfortable being vulnerable with me when I revealed basically all there is to know about me?! I know he didn’t ask for any of that information but it’s not like I could take it back even if I wanted to.” He continues. 

“Don’t get me wrong! He’s a great guy and everything I could ever ask for and then some. He’s attentive physically but emotionally I feel like there’s a barrier he keeps and I can’t figure out why. After all the time we’ve been spending you’d  _ think _ I would know something embarrassing he did as a kid or he regrets as a teen but I know zilch. Nothing, nada! Believe me, I’ve tried but I swear it’s like pulling teeth. I guess I just want to know why he’s keeping me at arms length.” He finished, his eyes fixed on a spot that has red nail polish staining the floor. Evidence of the previous tenants who must've not cared enough to attempt to clean it. 

Scott listens patiently as he speaks, a thoughtful frown forming on his tan skin. Making sure that Stiles said all he’s been wanting to say, before wondering. “Why don’t you ask him then?” 

“I—what?”

“Ask him why he seems closed off.” Scott lifts a shoulder as if it’s the most logical answer to his problem. Which it is.

“Hm.”

Scott stands and pats his cheek affectionately, “Don’t be afraid to tell him how you feel about it, either. Goodnight bro.” 

“Night’ bro.” He echoes hollowly. 

~~~

His thumb comes up to his mouth for the third time in less than twenty minutes and Derek sets his chopsticks down in concern.

“Something on your mind?” 

Stiles stops gnawing at the edge of his nail abruptly, “Mmm mm.” Derek doesn’t seem sold by his reply and says in an unconvinced tone, “Right.” 

One of his eyes squints as he takes in the thumb tapping against the glass of water. “I only ask because you tend to fidget when you feel antsy about something.”

He immediately stills at the observation and realizes this is a good opening for him to steer the conversation. His lips twist into a wry smile, “I was hoping we could talk after we finished eating.”

At his words, Derek leans away from the plate in front of him to signal he’s done eating. A puff of laughter leaves his mouth before he does the same. 

“Okay. Well," He begins, taking in a deep breath. "I’ve been feeling like I’m being held a safe distance away...emotionally that is. I don’t know if you’re aware of it but I wanted to let you know in case you aren’t.” He allows Derek time to let the words sink in and give his own reply.

Derek's mouth twists sheepishly, "I know. I don’t mean to make you feel like I’m hard to connect with but I have a hard time trusting people." His piercing gaze steadily holds Stiles' own. "Stiles, you’ve done nothing to give me the idea that I can’t trust you because I—I do,” he says.

“I realize I need to be honest if we’re going to be together because I don’t want you to doubt your place in my life,” he clears his throat before starting off shakily. “I’ve been deceived by someone I thought loved me. I was so blinded by my affection for them to see who they truly were and it’s something that’s stuck with me. I’m trying to work through the issues I have by meeting with a therapist twice a month.” He murmurs that last part, seemingly ashamed at the admission. 

Stiles wants to reach out and cover his hand to show him he’s listening but opts to lay it out on the table, palm up and open, giving him the option to take it if he wants. A slightly clammy hand settles into his, showing just how nervous he is talking about it. 

“My first serious relationship in college was with a girl named Jennifer. I genuinely believed she was going to be the person I was going to marry after we graduated. I took her home to meet my family and everything, but I didn’t know she had a habit of going after the children of families who come from money.” 

“I never figured out how she knew who I even was because Beacon Hills is so unknown. When people hear it they don’t associate it with wealth or anything of the sort, they just ask how far up in NorCal it is.”

“I know it’s not fair of me to ask but will you please have patience with me? I don’t want to make any promises I might not be able to keep, but I  _ will _ make more of an effort to open up to you. If you feel like it’s not fair I’ll completely understand and respect your decision to—to end things.” 

He makes to retract his hand but Stiles tightens his own grip. “Thank you for sharing that with me. I guess I felt that because I shared things with you, I thought you would want to do the same.” The eye contact they’ve held until this point is almost too much for him to handle when he admits, “It’s just that I feel like I’m the most vulnerable in this relationship because of things I told you before we even knew who the other was." He lightly raises a shoulder and admits, "It’s not fair of me to have these expectations of you, but I’d really appreciate the effort you plan on putting in.” He stares down at the plate in front of Derek, noting the small pile of broccoli he picked out of his stir fry. 

A pile that always ends up on Stiles’ plate which he greedily accepts whenever they have this for dinner. 

Derek picks his hand up and kisses the back of Stiles’ hand. “I completely understand. Thank you.” 

He picks his chopsticks up again and carefully begins moving the broccoli onto Stiles’ own plate. He smiles at the action and thinks how easy it would be to fall in love with the man in front of him when he does small things like this. 

Fall in love. 

_ Oh. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was listening to 'meet me in the hallway' and decided to have Derek literally leave Stiles' bedroom hehe  
> don't we just love a couple who can healthily communicate their feelings?? (most of the time anyway)  
> comments and kudos are always appreciated! I hope you're all staying safe and if no one's told you today: you look GOOD! ok ily muAh


	6. Cloud 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **reuploaded** I wasn't 100% happy with what I posted, so I cleaned it up + added some more. I also went back through previous chapters and changed some minor things if you want to take a look at that. as always, all mistakes are mine. I hope you enjoy <3

Stiles squints against the bright light coming from the screen of his laptop and notes that the time at the top right corner reads after 11. He rubs at his eyes underneath the glasses perched on his nose and emits a loud yawn before moving the device onto the coffee table. He gets up and stretches, reveling in the pop his back gives. 

Dropping his arms from the stretch, he looks at the laptop screen and shuts it. He sighs and looks around the modern space, one he’s only become acquainted with recently.

To call Derek’s place 'nice' would be a severe understatement. Granted, he knew it would be snazzy since it was basically a stone’s throw from Central Park. 

Not actually, but it was closer than he and Scott could ever hope to afford. 

It was glaringly obvious at that moment just how different their roles at the company were and he decided it would probably be best if he could find another job. Easier said than done.

He had forgotten how soul crushing job hunting could be. After applying to multiple positions and scarcely hearing back from any, he wondered if working for his boyfriend wasn’t actually that weird.

He made a face to himself, and had to remember that he didn’t want it to seem like there was a conflict of interest. Derek had been supportive when he brought it up, but also reminded him it wasn’t necessary. 

It’s not as though Derek was the one to hire him, but it was the principle of the thing. Plus, it would be great if he and Derek could separate their work from their personal life. 

Stiles wiggles his sock covered feet as he moves across the beautifully polished hardwood floor. He’s almost gliding across the surface, a stark difference to the flooring in his own apartment—one he relishes. With the last few weeks of fall quickly moving into winter, he finds his toes are in a near constant frozen state. 

Making his way towards Derek’s home office, he quickens his pace and manages to slide the length of the hall nearly missing his destination. He reaches out to grab onto the doorframe and struggles to right himself as the cotton makes his feet slip and slide cartoonishly. His eyes, which had been focused on the floor to ensure he didn’t fall, move upward and meet Derek’s amused gaze. 

He shakes his head in fond exasperation, “One of these days you’re going to miss and fall on your ass.”

Stiles gasps dramatically, “I would never. I’m very graceful I’ll have you know.”

Derek’s lips pull up in a smirk, “Right. It’s only that it’d be such a shame if you injured your assets.”

He scoffs but feels himself flush. He scoffs again at how ridiculous that was but makes a beeline for the man sitting in the plush looking chair, anyway. 

Derek pushes back from whatever he was working on and slowly moves the chair to face Stiles just as he maneuvers himself into his lap.

Warm hands settle on his sides before slowly gravitating down. Grabbing at the neatly groomed face, he tilts it back slightly. Staring each other down intensely, Stiles watches as Derek’s pupils dilate and his eyelids flutter as he moves his face closer. 

He makes as though he’s going in for a kiss, then moves at the last minute so his lips brush lightly against Derek’s ear.

“That...was...horrible!” The whispered sentence he began dissolves into a laugh. He leans back to grin in Derek’s face and begins laughing again at the petulant look on the other man’s face. 

Reaching his thumb out to caress the thick dark eyebrows, the digit moves down towards his cheek to lift it into a smile. 

“Oh no need to bring out The Brows.” He says miming the look. His face smooths out again as he continues his teasing, “Even you have to admit referring to my assets was bad.” 

He imitates Derek’s glare until he feels the cheek underneath his finger twitch. “Yeah, it was pretty bad, huh?” 

“It’s a good thing you’re pretty,” Stiles says airily. He lays a kiss on the tip of Derek’s nose before moving to stand. Or at least tries to.

His attempt is thwarted when the hands laying over his assets tighten their grip and a muffled smack is laid across one side.

He squawks and tries to jab a finger under an armpit but is turned and has his arms restrained by a strong set of arms. He huffs at the move but can’t deny that it is absolutely doing it for him. 

“Brat,” Derek mutters into his ear before nipping at the lobe with his teeth then soothing it with a kiss.

He pinches at a well muscled thigh underneath his own and takes pleasure in the hiss of pain he hears behind him. Satisfied that payback has been dealt, his attention shifts to the papers spread out on the surface before him in curiosity.

“What are you doing in here so late? I thought you’d be in bed by now.”

“Yeah. But you know,” he feels one of the arms around him move, indicating Derek’s shrug.

He sighs at the response that doesn’t answer his question at all. Patting at the solid thigh underneath his own he says, “C’mon Der. Let’s go to bed.”

“No, you go ahead. I just need to—”

Stiles interrupts the excuse that was about to come out of the other’s mouth swiftly.

“Nope. No, I don’t want to hear it. This will still be here in the morning,” he says. He wriggles in the lap teasingly, “I, however, might not be. So let's go.”

He moves to stand one more time and is gratified to find the arms allow him to do so. He yawns again and stares at Derek.

Looking conflicted, Derek sighs. “Stiles...”

“Derek…” He repeats in the same tone. He holds his hand out and wiggles his fingers out expectantly. 

Derek sighs again before standing to take the proffered hand. Stiles smiles triumphantly and leads the way to the bedroom. 

~~~

Stiles slowly wakes to an incessant buzzing in his ear and groans in annoyance. “Argh, make it stop.”

He pushes his face deeper into the pillow in an attempt to drown it out. When that doesn’t work, he pulls the pillow over his head. 

The noise is muffled, but now his breathing is inhibited. Agitation building the longer the noise continues, he flings the pillow towards the head of the bed and sits up. He swipes a hand roughly down his face to get rid of the sleep. 

His hand flops listlessly against the comforter and he turns to look at his bedmate. Derek is dead asleep beside him, seemingly undisturbed by the loud buzzing. Becoming more alert with every second, he now recognizes the noise as the intercom. He shakes the man quickly and whispers, “Derek. Derek, someone’s here.” 

When that fails to rouse him, he pats towards the head of the bed until his fingers grasp the corner of the object he was seeking. Using the triskele tattoo as his target, he brings the pillow around and smacks it. 

The man inhales deeply as he startles into consciousness and looks at him in sleepy confusion, “Wha?”

As his boyfriend struggles to wake, he blearily looks for his sleeping bottoms. He nearly trips in his battle to put them on before thundering towards the noise.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he grumbles.

When he reaches the living room, he blinks harshly to adjust to the brightness of the room, the east facing windows allowing natural light to stream in. He struggles to read the time on the clock near the front door and groans when it shows a few minutes past 8.

He presses the button and says around a yawn, “Hello, whos’it?”

“It’s me. Let me up, I’m freezing!” 

His eyebrows draw together in confusion, but before he can ask who “me” is Derek comes up beside him in a flurry.

He pushes the button allowing the person up and turns to Stiles with panic in his eyes. Stiles turns to him and squints at him in equal parts drowsiness and confusion.

“So, no need to panic. But...Laura’s on her way up.”

Stiles’ eyes bug out in alarm and he flails slightly, “What?!” 

“Oh my god, I need to—I need to get dressed! No, wait! I should brush my teeth first, or maybe I should—” he trails off as he races back to the bedroom to grab his clothes. With the clothes balled up in his arms, he runs towards the bathroom and attempts to do three things at once. 

He can hear Derek moving around the room, presumably doing the same. Frantically brushing his teeth, he clamps his teeth around the toothbrush as he shimmies into his jeans. After spitting out toothpaste, he rinses his face and uses the remaining water on his hands to try to unflatten his hair. As he tries to find the right opening in his shirt, Derek comes in and starts brushing his teeth.

“What is your sister doing here? Why didn’t you tell me she was coming?!” Stiles demands. 

This is definitely not how he pictured meeting the eldest Hale sibling. Technically he's already met Derek’s family, prominent as they are in Beacon Hills— but he’s never met Laura.

Derek adores his older sister; it’s evident in the way he speaks so highly of her. So naturally, Stiles wanted to make a good impression when he met her. He also had a burning curiosity to meet the elusive Hale. He just hadn’t expected it to be so soon and without a chance to prepare.

He stares at his partner’s profile and notices the guilty slant of his shoulders and the cautious glance in the mirror. When Derek rinses his mouth he struggles to find the right things to say.

“I-I’m sorry. I’ve been so busy, it must have slipped my mind,” He shakes his head seeming disappointed in himself for forgetting.

“Don’t worry, though. I’m sure she’ll love you.” He adds reassuringly.

Stiles lets out a frustrated sound before crumbling under the reproachful look on Derek’s face. 

“I know you’ve been swamped. We’ll talk later, let’s just...” he says, motioning over his shoulder in the direction of the front door.

As if on cue, a persistent knocking starts up. Derek takes a deep breath and makes his way out of the room towards the door. Stiles stares longingly at the rumpled bed sheets, wishing he were still snuggled up like he was not even ten minutes ago before forcing himself to move in the direction of the low voices.

When he exits the hallway, he’s greeted by the sight of Derek staring down at the figure in front of him with a soft look. His eyes meet Stiles’ once he’s in view and he watches his lips quirk up before moving, speaking to his sister. 

She turns at whatever he says and her delighted gaze zeroes in on Stiles. With the sharp features and piercing eyes, Stiles would almost mistake them as twins if her hair wasn’t the same brown shade as Cora’s.

He stops a few feet away and brings his hand up briefly in greeting before nervously tucking his hands in his pockets, “Hi, I’m Stiles.”

“Oh you are just adorable, I could eat you up,” she says around a mischievous grin. 

“Laura.”

“Der-Bear where on earth did you find someone like this?” She turns to focus on her brother in fascination. “Look at his Bambi eyes!” she coos. 

Stiles laughs nervously and looks towards Derek for help. Should he just continue to let her fawn over him? Derek rolls his eyes at her antics and mouths an apology.

Laura moves closer and Stiles finds he has to angle his head down slightly to face her. He brings his hand out to shake hers, but she surprises him by bringing him into a hug. 

He hesitantly moves the hand to pat at her back awkwardly and waits for her to pull out of the hug first. 

“I’m Laura, by the way. It’s nice to meet you, I’ve heard a lot about you,” she says with an impish wink, still holding onto his arms. 

“You have?” His surprise is genuine. “Well, I wish I could say the same here but it seems Der-Bear was intent on keeping you all to himself,” he replies, emphasizing the embarrassing nickname to let Derek know he wasn’t letting it slip away.

Derek groans and pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes as if in pain.

“I feel like I’m going to regret letting you two meet. You’re both menaces.”

Despite his words, a look of relief passes over his face at how well they seem to be getting on.

“You wouldn’t have it any other way,” Laura quips, sticking her tongue out at her brother.

Stiles is startled into a laugh when Derek returns the childish display. 

Laura hooks her arm into Stiles and begins, “So Stiles tell me about yourself. I’m sure you’d be more than happy to fill me in on whatever my brother has refused to share.”

Stiles pulls himself up into a proper stance and says with a flourish of his unoccupied arm, “Of course m’lady. Lead the way.”

Laura laughs and moves toward the kitchen.

“Derek, be a dear and grab my bags won’t you?” She jaunts, blowing her disgruntled brother a kiss and pulls a smirking Stiles along with her. 

Stiles stifles a grin as he looks back and sees Derek throwing his head back and stare at the ceiling in a “why me?” manner. 

He happily follows his boyfriend’s—surprisingly strong for her size—older sister, eager to get to know her better. 

~~~

Huffing as he finally reaches his door, Stiles takes a minute to gather his breath.  
‘I have got to start working out’ he thinks to himself, fiddling with the key to his shared apartment.

After spending the morning with Laura and Derek, he decided to give the siblings a chance to catch up properly and excused himself. Derek had been concerned, and gently caught his hand at the door.

“Is everything alright?” he asked.

“No, yeah, everything’s fine. I just want to give you the chance to spend some quality time with your sister.”

Derek still looked uncertain so Stiles continued, “Seriously, it’s fine. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

Derek conceded and sent him off with a lingering kiss and a promise to call.

He opens the door, noting that the squeak has come back and tries to remember where he left the can of WD-40 last time he greased the hinges. 

Only a few steps into the entry, he abruptly stops when he comes face to face with a stranger as they exit the kitchen. Her eyes are wide in surprise and Stiles is sure his face mirrors her reaction.

His eyes slowly slide to the left as if the cushions on the couch will provide him with an answer as to who the person is.

“Uh..hi?” he says slowly.

“Hi?”

“Um—Scott?” he yells out, hoping his best friend was here and he didn’t happen to walk into a robbery. 

“Stiles?” comes the confused reply from the direction of Scott’s room.

He breathes a sigh of relief and looks back to the dark haired figure. Their eyes meet again and this time he shoots her a hesitant smile which she returns.

Scott comes out from his bedroom and comes to a slow stop as he assesses the situation. He stands a few feet away, the three of them forming a triangle shape. His eyes flick back and forth between the two figures before he continues so he’s right in between them.

“Hey, man. Wasn’t expecting you back until later tonight,” he begins in a fluster.

“Yeah, something came up,” he explains vaguely. “So...?” Stiles draws out, allowing Scott the chance to point out the elephant in the room.

“Oh! Right,” he fumbles, rubbing nervously at his jaw. “Stiles, this is Kira my...,” he trails off and looks at the girl quickly, seeming unsure as to how he should introduce her.

“Girlfriend,” she finishes for him. Scott’s face breaks out into a dopey grin and she smiles back at him sweetly before addressing Stiles. “Hi, so I’m guessing you’re Stiles?” 

“The one and only! It’s nice to finally meet you,” he replies, reaching out for a handshake. 

She grasps his hand in her smooth one, surprising him with a firm shake. 

If the events of the day have taught him anything, it’s that he shouldn’t be surprised when strong things seem to come in small packages. 

“Finally?” she questions, raising a perfectly sculpted brow.

Stiles balks, wondering if she’s not the same person who he caught Scott sneaking a while back. He tries to backtrack his mistake before she giggles.

“I’m totally messing with you. But it is nice to finally meet you.”

Stiles barks out a laugh and moves closer to Scott to drop a hand on his shoulder. 

“You did good, Scotty. I have the feeling this is going to go swimmingly,” he says, the left side of his mouth tilting up in amusement.

Kira beams at him. “I can go if you’d like,” she seems to suggest to them but settles her questioning gaze on Scott.

Scott opens his mouth to form a response, but Stiles cuts in.

“No, no don’t worry. I was just heading to my room. It’s been quite a day and I think I just need to lie down.”

Scott looks like he wants to ask what he means by that, but it’s overshadowed by the tentative hope at the prospect of getting to spend more time with his girlfriend. 

Girlfriend, oooh. Stiles makes a mental note to make time to tease Scott about his new relationship status. It’ll serve him right for all the times he did the same to Stiles.

He pats his friend’s back in a reassuring manner before making his way towards his room. Before he closes the door he makes it a point to repeat to Kira that it was nice meeting her. 

He drops his stuff on the floor and after brief contemplation, decides to join a minute later. He sprawls out near the window, the sunlight from earlier in the morning disappearing every now and then behind some light gray clouds. 

From his spot on the floor, he can see a light layer of dust that’s already accumulating on the wood. He makes a face at the thought of having to sweep, again. It’s one of the downsides of not having carpet. 

Turning over the events of the day in his mind, he snorts lightly at the irony of being thrown into the middle of two unexpected meetings. He’s just relieved that they both went well and wonders when he’ll get the chance to speak to them again. 

It’s with this last thought that he slips into unconsciousness. 

~~

By the time he wakes from his nap, it’s starting to get dark out. He shifts and winces at the stiffness in his back from laying on the floor for too long. He braces himself to stand and hears his knee crack loudly.

‘I feel like an old man’ he thinks to himself as he does a few stretches. The faint glow of the street lights coming below his window allow him to find the light switch with ease.

Tilting his head toward the door curiously, he realizes it’s silent. Cracking it open a bit, he peeks out and the darkness of the living room confirms that Scott isn’t home. 

He’s pulled out of his musings of Scott’s whereabouts when his phone starts ringing. He rummages through his discarded items until he finds his phone and sees Derek lighting up the screen.

“Hello?” he answers in a rasp. He clears the sleep from his throat and tries the greeting again.

“Hey, sorry did I wake you?”

“No, no I just woke up,” he assures him. He pulls the phone away from his ear to check the time and switches to speaker mode.

He grimaces as he realizes he slept far longer than he’d hoped to. “How goes the sibling bonding time?” he asks, looking at his notifications distractedly.

“I think we’ve had enough ‘bonding time’,” Derek chuckles. “I was actually calling to see if you wanted to get dinner with us?”

He notices a text from Isaac, a recent message from Scott asking if he wanted dinner, and a missed call from his dad along with a text that simply reads ‘Call me when you can, son’ from a few hours ago.

“Shoot,” he hisses. His mind flits through the different reasons that would prompt his dad to not only call but send a text after he failed to answer.

He belatedly registers that he didn’t give an answer and blinks to attention. He hears Derek calling his name and says, “I’m here.” 

“So, dinner?” Derek repeats. 

“Dinner. Right. Um, thank you for inviting me, but I can’t tonight,” he admits. “I’ll talk to you later, okay? Say hi to Laura for me. Love you, bye.” He rushes out distractedly.

Without waiting for a response he ends the call and presses the missed call notification. The phone only rings twice before the sheriff picks up.

“Hiya son, forget about your old man?” he greets.

“Dad,” he breathes out. His shoulders slump in relief, easing out of the tense line he didn’t realize he had been holding them in. 

“You okay, kid?” his dad asks in concern. He can almost picture the frown that would accompany the words and feels a pang of longing. Seeing his dad’s face through a computer screen once a week is no replacement to seeing him in the flesh.

“‘M fine. It’s just—You called earlier?” he questions.

“I did. Just wanted to see if you were planning on coming out here with Scott for Christmas?”

Stiles rolls his eyes because of course, his dad would make something so simple sound like an emergency. 

“That’s why you called? And texted?! I thought something happened,” he huffs. 

“What? Why would you think that?” his dad asks in confusion.

“You sent a text, Dad.”

“I have a phone, Stiles. Of course I know how to text,” his dad points out obviously.  
Stiles scrunches his face, “Wha—since when?” 

“Since I was added to this group text chain with the deputies. Parrish even taught me some text lingo,” he informs him.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Stiles doesn’t reply for a few seconds. His mouth opens around half formed sentences before clicking shut. 

“I won’t even ask,” he settles on eventually.

He hears his dad laugh before returning to the matter at hand. “So, Christmas. Will I be seeing my only child or not?”

Oh, low blow. Humming in uncertainty, he weighs the pros and cons. Pros: he would get to spend the holidays with his dad, Scott, and Melissa. Cons: he’ll have to get on a plane to do so.

Following his son’s train of thought, his dad goes in for the kill. “I miss you, Stiles.”

Throwing his head back in defeat, he admits, “I miss you, too dad.”

“Will you be coming with Scott or…?” his dad trails off.

Raising his brow at the question he prods, “Or?”

“Or will you be bringing...someone?” he asks stiffly.

“How did you,” he cuts himself off. Cursing silently, he concludes with a sigh, “Scott.”

“Oh no, don’t try to put this on Scott,” he warns in an authoritative way. He winces as he realizes he just sold himself out. 

His dad is right, of course. Stiles could never figure out the right way to share with his dad the news of his relationship, so the fault is entirely his.

Seriously, was he supposed to just casually slip in ‘Hey, remember how you asked me about the Hale’s son who moved to New York? Guess what: he’s my boss. Also, we’re dating. Cool, right?’ 

He couldn’t see that playing out very well. Instead of admitting that yes he was in fact seeing someone the last time his dad had asked, he deflected. 

Now, he’s in a relationship with that someone. And...well, it would seem odd if he were to admit that he was in a relationship after not saying anything before. 

Tugging at his hair nervously he starts his apology, “I know. I know I should’ve told you. And I’m sorry but.” 

He lets out a breath and tries to find the best way to explain to his dad.

“Are they a criminal or into some shady things? Is that why you didn’t tell me?” the sheriff asks tiredly.

Despite the situation he manages a laugh, “No, no nothing like that.”

Hoping the fact that he isn’t dating a criminal would be enough to deter his dad from further interrogation, he weakly tries, “The situation is hard to explain?”

No such luck. “Try explaining it to me, anyway.”

He wondered how much he could actually say without his dad jumping in once he realizes it's his boss. 

“Well, remember how you mentioned Derek Hale moved here?” he begins.

After his dad’s sound of agreement, he continues.

“I actually ran into him when he first came back to the city,” he admits. He hears a noise of surprise on the other end but doesn’t give his dad a chance to say anything.

“We got to talking and then he...asked me out.” Technically true, Derek did ask him out first.

“And remember when you asked me if I knew his company?” His dad lets out a suspicious sounding ‘uh-huh’ and Stiles could almost picture the squint on his face as the man tries to figure out how all of the information being fed to him fits together.

“He owns Alpha Co.” he reveals.

“Alpha Co.? As in…?” his dad hedges, tone taking an edge as if hoping Stiles contradicts the correct conclusion hes drawn.

“The place where I work,” he confirms.

There’s a long pause and Stiles braces himself for whatever disapproval his dad is sure to have. 

“Okay. Are you bringing him home, then?” his dad eventually says, tone carefully neutral.

Confused at the lack of emotion to the situation, he can only say, “What.”

“Are you bringing him home?” he repeats slowly.

“Uh—I don’t? I mean, I could ask?” he answers thoughtlessly, completely caught off guard. Then he facepalms because who knows if Derek would even agree to spend a holiday in Beacon Hills.

“Let me know when you get an answer. I want to make sure you get your ticket on time,” comes the reply. Even though it’s only the first week of November, ticket prices are bound to skyrocket due to the holiday season. 

“I will. Besides, even if he has other plans I know you’ll enlist Scott’s help to wrangle me onto the plane,” he grumbles.

His dad chortles, but doesn’t bother denying the claim. He grins at the noise, excitement overshadowing the nerves at the mere idea of a six hour flight.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. The sound of the front door being unlocked announces Scott’s presence. He moves to stand in his doorway as he listens to his dad’s advice on getting the best flight deals. 

Scott flicks the living room lights on and waves his hand in greeting when he notices Stiles leaning against the frame with the phone tucked between his ear and shoulder. Motioning to the takeout bag in his hand, he gestures toward the kitchen and Stiles nods in understanding.

Despite not answering his text, Scott still brought him something to eat. Bless his soul, Stiles could kiss him. He’ll settle for something less traumatizing for the both of them. Like taking over bathroom cleaning chores this week. Maybe.

“I’ll talk to you later, dad. Scott just got home so I’ll call you when I know for sure.” 

Grunting his assent, his father hangs up after saying his own goodbye.

Pocketing his phone, Stiles merrily makes his way to the kitchen at the prospect of food. Thoughts of Derek make him halt abruptly in the entrance to the kitchen as his heart plummets to the pit that’s opened up in his stomach. 

When Scott turns to look at him, Stiles’ face is drawn in horror. Bewilderment pulls at the tanned face.

“I accidentally told Derek that I loved him,” he gets out in a strained voice. His breath coming out in harsh, irregular spurts.

Scott’s eyebrows shoot up, clearly not expecting that. He slowly walks closer to Stiles and places a familiar hand on his upper arm. Shifting so his face is directly in Stiles’ eyeline, he makes his friend look at him.

“Stiles. It’s gonna be okay. Focus on breathing with me,” Scott encourages evenly. Nodding his head jerkily, Stiles follows the pattern of deep breaths Scott takes.

After a few minutes, he manages to get his breathing under control and the pressing panic subsides into something manageable.

“Thanks,” he whispers. Scott offers him a lopsided smile in return before lightly pulling him in the direction of the forgotten food lying on the table.

Taking a seat heavily, he leans his elbows on the surface and cradles his head in the palm of his hands. 

“I can’t believe I did that! All nonchalant, too,” he bemoans. He growls in frustration at his carelessness, “This was not how I planned on saying it.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, “I wonder what he must be thinking.” Then continuing loudly, “I don’t think I can face him. I-I’m mortified!” 

Rubbing at his temples, he draws in a long breath. The aromatic scent of whatever’s in the bag seems to remind him of his hunger. 

Even though there’s a heavy weight settled low in his belly, his mouth waters. He halfheartedly pokes at the bag to take a peek and immediately spots the logo of their favorite Greek restaurant.

“Scott, you are an angel,” he whispers, perking up. He stares up at his best friend earnestly and they both break out in laughter.

“When I knocked on your door to let you know I was taking Kira home I didn’t get a response. I assumed you were asleep since you looked tired when you walked in. Even if you weren’t here when I got back, I knew you’d eat it sooner or later,” Scott shrugs.

With renewed vigor, he takes out a box and opens it to reveal a loukaniko skewer, pita, fries, feta cheese, and small containers of olive oil and dip. Groaning in delight, he hands the other container to Scott so they can eat.

Not quite ready to talk about his own predicament, he focuses on Scott, “So, Kira huh? She seems cool.”

His lips twitch at Scott’s glare but he waits with a raised brow. 

“She is. Honestly, she’s great. I really like her,” Scott shares around a shy smile.

“Enough to make her your girlfriend,” he teases, making smooching noises.

Scott pushes at his shoulder lightly and grumbles, “Shut up.” Contrary to his words, his face splits in a grin, eyes crinkling at the edges in laughter. 

A pleased smile spreads out on Stiles’ face watching how happy his best friend seems to be. 

He looks at the open container of food trying to determine what he should start with. Scott reaches in his own box and pops a fry in his mouth before hesitating, “Are we going to address the fact that you’re in love with Derek?” 

Stiles heaves a sigh and rips a piece of pita. He chews on it thoughtfully then, “I’m—I wish I did it differently.”

“It’s been a few months, no?”

“Nearly six months since our first date,” he concedes.

“And you’ve been official for what is it, four of those?”

“Sure, but—” he tries. Scott looks at him with a knowing look, and Stiles knows there’s no point in trying to apply logic to his feelings.

Acknowledging the truth is never easy, but he yields, “I love him, Scott.” 

“I know.”

They eat silently for a few minutes before making mundane conversation. As they’re cleaning up and arguing over which movie they should watch now that they’ve eaten their fill, there’s a quick knock at the door. 

Scott pauses his ministrations of wiping the table down as Stiles dumps the empty containers. 

They stare at each other wondering who could be at the door before Scott pointedly returns to the task at hand. Since, he’s the closest to the door and is currently unoccupied, it's up to him to deal with their unexpected visitor.

Without bothering to look through the peephole, he opens up the door and meets a wide-eyed Derek.

“Derek. What are you...?” dumbstruck, he can only look at the man in front of him wondering if he’s a mirage. 

“Did you mean it?” Derek asks breathlessly.

He can only be talking about one thing.

They stare at each other as Stiles gathers the courage to simply say, “Yes.”

Derek laughs in disbelief and as Stiles’ eyes roam over his form, taking in his appearance, he realizes with a start that his hair is wind ruffled. 

“Wha—did you run here?” he blurts out incredulously. 

Nodding his assent, Derek reaches out to grab his hand. He moves closer and his eyes shine with mirth before he tells him, “I love you.”

Stunned, he feels his breath catch in his throat as he gasps at the words. He blinks owlishly once, twice. Then beams at the figure in front of him.

The warm feeling of happiness in his chest bursts out in the form of a laugh. Derek joins in briefly before leaning forward and capturing his lips in a slow, tender kiss.

Between kisses, their smiles slip through—joy too contagious to hold in. They eventually pull away slightly after a few minutes to stare at each other.

They’re pulled out of their little bubble by a throat clearing behind Stiles. 

Scott stands there with a pleased yet slightly uncomfortable look on his face, keys dangling from his fingers. 

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but I’m gonna head to Liam’s,” he announces. He stares directly at Stiles emphasizing, “Might sleepover, if it gets too late.”

Biting his lip in amusement, Stiles bobs his head signaling that he gets the message being sent his way.

He moves into the apartment with Derek by his side and snorts when Scott briefly greets Derek with a wraggle of his brows before leaving. 

“Did he just sexile himself?” Derek wonders.

“Isn’t he the best?” Stiles says in way of agreement. 

Derek barks out a laugh before covering his face in embarrassment. Bringing himself closer to Derek, he whispers, “Let’s make the best of it.” 

In lieu of answering, Derek wraps his arms around Stiles’ hips and lifts him over his shoulder and towards his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahh..love is in the air. ik it’s a lot to take in on a day but he’ll manage. I hope you're all staying safe and healthy! Thank you for sticking with me :)


End file.
